Hero of the Story
by atetheredmind
Summary: By the end of the summer, Peeta Mellark had married the shoemaker's daughter. And by the end of the summer, Katniss had wed Gale in a small toasting ceremony. AU where Prim and Peeta are never reaped, and where there is no mockingjay, no rebellion. Explicit sexual content and other triggers.
1. Part I

_**Author's note:**__ This was written for Day 7 of Prompts in Panem on tumblr. This is part one of two. I hope to have the second part up soon. My tumblr name is atetheredmind, so come play!_

* * *

It happened a few weeks after Prim's last reaping.

Her name had not been chosen from the slips of thousands, and as she hugged her little sister in the square, after the two unlucky tributes had been swept inside the Justice Hall and the crowd had dispersed, Katniss could finally breathe; she could finally breathe for the first time in 18 years. Her sister was safe. They could be happy now. What else was there to worry about?

As it turned out, there was plenty.

At 22, Katniss hadn't done a lot of the things expected of her. She refused a job in the mines, and her particular skills set wasn't conducive to any sort of work in town—not that the Merchants, even if they hadn't delegated all their jobs to family members, would ever consider her for a position within their shops. Instead, she did what she did best: She bucked the Capitol's rules. She still hunted, trading the game she caught around town. In addition, she made contraband prophylactics from animal intestines and sold them in the Hob.

The idea had come to her when she was hunting in the woods alone one day and had spotted two squirrels rutting furiously in a tree. Birth control wasn't entirely legal in the districts—the Capitol needed its sacrificial lambs for the games, after all—but healers like her mother knew of herbs to prevent conception—or to terminate pregnancy. At some point, condoms had been sold in the Hob; a man from the Seam, Micah, had a connection in the Capitol and used to sneak shipments of condoms on the trains until someone higher up in the Capitol got wind of it, effectively putting a stop to the shipments. They never saw Micah again after that.

Gale had been particularly amused by her new craft and had told her that if he didn't have to work in the mines, he would have gladly helped her with fashioning the animal-skin condoms. But he needed the pay from the mines, the steady source of income, because he still had his siblings to care for.

Gale was another problem unto himself. After Katniss' last reaping, he had asked her to marry him. She had been utterly dumbfounded, to say the least—though, in retrospect, she now understood the cryptic things he'd said to her over the years, the lingering looks, the more-than-friendly touches. Flustered, she had told him what she had always told herself: She didn't want to get married, and she didn't want to have kids. She had Prim to worry about, and she couldn't think about anything else. He had been crushed, and a little angry, but he was persistent; he insisted they didn't have to get married until Prim was out of the reaping. He insisted he could wait.

She didn't have the heart to tell him he might be waiting forever.

Regardless, the two of them had lapsed into a strange limbo—they were something more than friends, but she didn't know how to define it. She never referred to him as her boyfriend, but she knew he was hers, and she was his; what else mattered? Before him, she had never given much (any) thought to sex. It was a purely biological impulse, she thought, needed for the purpose of recreating—and she had no intentions of ever doing that. But when her relationship with Gale turned physical, tentative kisses blossoming into heavy touching, she knew; finally, she understood the pull of sex. When he bent her over at the slag heap or took her up against a tree in the woods, she thought, at least they could have this; she could always give him this.

And true to his word, Gale didn't pressure her about marriage during those years. He seemed content with just exploring their physical relationship, and a large part of Katniss hoped it could always stay like that. But the day after Prim's last reaping, he began dropping hints about a larger commitment. She feigned ignorance, which had always worked so well for her in the past, but Gale's patience ran out. When he asked her again, point-blank, if she wanted to marry him, she didn't know what to tell him. "I need more time, Gale," she'd told him weakly, not sure if all the time in the world could ever be enough to change her mind. But she couldn't bear to disappoint him, not after everything, and he was stubborn; he was convinced he could wait her out. And she was sure she would never relent.

Coins in hand, Katniss crossed through town, heading for the bakery. It was a bittersweet day for her; Prim, her little sister, who wasn't so little anymore, was newly engaged to a boy from town. The news had been a little scandalous, as she was from the Seam, but most people seemed to forget that fact; seeing her blonde hair and blue eyes, they were willing to overlook her birth class and welcome her into theirs. Prim was easy to like. Katniss was happy for her sister; she really was. But she was also heartbroken. She had devoted 18 years of her life to helping raise her, protecting her; now that she was ready to start a family of her own with a man who would be responsible for looking after her, Katniss didn't know what to do with herself anymore. She had cried when Prim had announced the engagement, ruining the occasion for her sweet sister. And, now, ashamed of her dramatics, Katniss had decided to buy Prim a cake, something she never could have done before. To congratulate her, and to apologize.

Circling to the back of the bakery, she knocked curtly on the door and waited. She could hear a commotion inside and, finally, the back door opened. Barm, the eldest Mellark son, answered, a wide grin plastered on his face. When he saw her, his eyes lit up in recognition. "Oh, hey, Katniss. Here for the cake?" he asked pleasantly, and she nodded.

She had commissioned the cake a couple days ago. Barm, who had taken over the bakery from his father, had helped her with the details.

Joyous laughter echoed from somewhere in the bakery behind him, and he glanced behind him. "Sorry, things are a little hectic right now," he explained apologetically, but his face still glowed with happiness. "I almost forgot you were coming by today. Hold tight, and I'll get the cake for you."

He disappeared inside, leaving the door open, and she stared after him curiously. It was only then that she realized he wasn't wearing his usual apron. He looked like he was dressed for the reaping, actually, with a nice pair of slacks and a white dress shirt. Confused, she leaned through the doorway slightly, trying to peer around the corner, where snippets of indecipherable conversations drifted toward her. Just then, Barm emerged from another room, holding a box. She jerked back, a slight blush coloring her cheeks, but he hadn't noticed her snooping. "Here you go," he said, handing the box to her, and she dropped the coins in his open palm.

"Are you closed? I'm sorry to have intruded..." she trailed off uneasily, but he waved her apology off.

"Ah, it's fine. We didn't plan to be closed today, but, well, it's a momentous occasion," he said proudly, and at her clueless expression, he beamed. "Peeta, my baby brother, is finally getting married."

The box holding the cake nearly slipped from her hands, and she was sure her heart had stopped beating in that moment.

Peeta.

Peeta Mellark was getting married. Peeta, the boy with the bread. He was getting _married_.

Barm must have taken her stricken expression for surprise because he laughed, nodding his head as if he shared her thoughts. "I know. We didn't think it was ever going to happen. He never could stick with one girl for too long, and I was sure he was never going to settle down. But I guess he finally found the one. We're getting ready to head to the Justice Building right now, so it's lucky you stopped by when you did."

Katniss was lost, somewhere in time, somewhere 11 years ago. No, not lost—she was still at the bakery, but out front, crawling through the mud for a couple loaves of bread, the icy sheets of rain beating her relentlessly, beating her the way his mother had beaten him for burning the bread.

And she had never said thank you. Had never even spoken to him. Never even...never even...what? What did she not do that she could never do now?

She didn't know. She didn't understand the pit that had ripped open in her stomach. She felt lightheaded all of a sudden, and she shook her head, trying to shake the dread squeezing at her heart.

"You okay?" Barm asked, eyeing her strangely, and she snapped back to attention.

"Yes—yes, I'm fine, I'm fine," she babbled, shifting the cake to one hand so she could wipe the sweat from her forehead. "It's just—hot out here." He nodded in understanding. "Well, thank you—thank you for the cake. And...and..."

"Hey, Barm, you coming? We're about to head out," a voice called out behind him, a voice she knew well, and then he was there. Their eyes locked over Barm's shoulder, as they had done many times before, but this time neither gray nor blue flitted away.

Peeta stared at her, his jaw going slack as something indecipherable skittered across his face, and she was frozen to her spot, her heart in her throat. But Barm was oblivious to the exchange, throwing a confirmation to his brother over his shoulder. His words snapped Katniss from her daze, and she blinked rapidly.

"Congratulations," she squeaked, and she was gone before either could respond, walking as fast as she could without drawing attention to herself. But when she reached the Seam, she broke into a run, not sure where her feet were taking her.

It wasn't until she stumbled through the berry bushes at the rocky ledge where she and Gale always met for their hunting trips that she even realized she was in the woods. She collapsed on the ledge, her heart still beating wildly. Only then did she remember the cake in her hands.

What was wrong with her? She felt like she had lost something she never had. It was just guilt, she reasoned, that horrible feeling in her gut. Guilt that she still had never thanked him for the bread, for the beating he took to save her. She didn't know how to deal with the weight of a debt unpaid.

This was silly. She was being absolutely stupid.

Katniss stared at the box in her hand, opening it gingerly. The cake inside was small, covered in beautiful, hand-crafted primroses made of fondant. Or something like that. Barm had waxed poetic about how the cake was going to be prepared, but she hadn't understood most of the terms he had used. The icing was white, and inside the cake was yellow—at least, it should be; that's what Barm had promised. She admired the delicate flowers, wondering whose hands had crafted them. Barm had said his brother would decorate the cake, as he was much better at it than him, but he didn't specify which one, and she didn't ask.

Somehow, looking at the primroses, she knew they had been done by Peeta's hand.

She slammed the box closed, but she didn't leave yet. She sat huddled on that ledge for hours, lost in thought. When the sun was low in the sky, she knew what she had to do.

Back at home, Prim wept when she saw the cake. They invited the Hawthornes over to share the decadent dessert—after all, rarely did anyone in the Seam get to indulge in such treats. Before Gale left, his family already trudging back to their house, Katniss stopped him on the porch and pulled him aside. He watched her so intently, she nearly lost her nerve.

"Let's do it," she finally managed to choke out, but he looked confused. "Let's get married."

Gale's eyes widened in disbelief. "Really? You mean it?" She nodded, and his face split into a grin so wide, her own cheeks hurt. Then he started laughing, and he lifted her into a hug, spinning her around. The sound of his joy was contagious, and soon she was laughing, too. When he placed her back on the porch, she swayed in his arms, slightly dizzy, but he held her tight. "I can't believe it," he said, then he cupped his hands around his mouth, shouting into the night, "Katniss Everdeen just agreed to marry me!"

She shushed him, mortified, but he kissed her anyway, a kiss both heated and slow. She fisted his shirt in her hands, and when he pulled away, he leaned his forehead against hers. "I love you," he whispered, his voice shaking with happiness.

The words stuck in her throat. They had never said them to each other, but she thought it was understood. It hadn't been an easy realization for her to swallow, but she knew years ago that she loved him. At the time, it hadn't been more than a platonic rendering, born of a mutual hardship and an understanding they had of each other that no one else could ever touch. And now, she knew it was something more. He deserved to be loved by her—by someone better, really—but he deserved to hear it, at least.

"I—I love you, too," she murmured tremulously, and he sealed the declaration with a kiss.

And in that moment, she was happy.

* * *

By the end of the summer, Peeta Mellark had married the shoemaker's daughter, and the two of them moved into a house not far from the bakery.

By the end of the summer, Prim had married and moved with her husband to a new house in town.

And by the end of the summer, Katniss and Gale were wed in a small toasting ceremony in their new (old) house in the Seam. She wouldn't let him use any bread from the bakery, however, insisting on the bland drop biscuits she had whipped up herself.

* * *

The first few years were good. She was happy with Gale, she was—at least, as happy as she thought herself capable of being. And he was happy, too.

But then he started asking about the possibility of children, and she knew the bubble of their blissful domesticity had been popped.

"Gale, you know I don't want children," she said slowly, carefully. "I've told you this before."

He just stared at her in disbelief. "I didn't know you meant...I mean, ever? You don't want kids—_ever_?"

"I thought you understood. I thought this was something we both understood." She could feel her precarious grip on a peaceful, undisturbed life slipping already.

He sighed. "I understand your hesitation, I do, but...if I were going to have kids, I would want them with you. You don't ever think about—about having my children, raising them together?" he asked, and she didn't know how to respond because the answer was no, never. How could he want kids when the reaping loomed every year, ready to snatch them from the tentative safety of their lives in District 12, however miserable? How could anyone?

"I don't want kids," she repeated stubbornly, and his face hardened, but he didn't speak of the subject anymore, at least for a few months.

Her opposition was only heightened the day Prim told her she was pregnant, and Katniss felt the fear as if it were her own child. And she knew then that she would never be free from the worry, the terror of the games.

The topic of children became a source of contention in her and Gale's relationship. After their first conversation, she thought he had dropped the notion, but soon, he began hinting at the prospect again, making offhanded comments that left her agitated and unsettled. When he finally asked her again, her frustration boiled over, sparking a heated fight between the two of them that ended with her crying in anger and him storming out of the house. He came back hours later, smelling of liquor, but he apologized profusely. He took her on the kitchen table that night, and she let him work out his rage on her.

After a while, that was all their relationship seemed to be: fighting and butting heads and furiously fucking to make amends. She always made him wear a condom, though, and eventually, he came to resent her for that, as well, until, finally, they stopped having sex. Now their relationship was just fighting and butting heads and tiptoeing around each other, waiting for the next eventual blow-up.

She was miserable. He was miserable. She was consumed with the guilt of denying him children, but she had warned him, hadn't she? He could leave her if he wanted, but she knew he wouldn't. He was just as stubborn as she was, and though most days she wished he had met and fallen in love with someone else, someone who actually wanted to bear his children, admitting defeat was a hard pill to swallow for her, too.

* * *

Katniss hoisted her game bag over her shoulder as she made her rounds through town. It was Wednesday, her usual day for trading. Once she'd started her business in the Hob, she'd had to switch her main hunting days from Sunday to Wednesday, as Sundays were typically a busy day in the Hob. The switch was just another thing Gale resented her for, she knew.

Leaving the apothecary, she headed for the bakery. At the back door, she rapped twice, already pulling out the squirrel she normally traded with Barm.

But it wasn't Barm who answered the door. It was Peeta.

Startled, she dropped the squirrel on the door step. "Oh!" she breathed, and they both leaned down to pick it up, fumbling awkwardly for the dead rodent. She let him pick it up, straightening up quickly, and he handed it back to her with an odd smile. Flustered, she took it from him, but then she held it back out to him. "Well, this is for you—or Barm—or, or whoever," she stuttered, trying to will away the embarrassed flush that had crept up her neck. With another smile, Peeta took the squirrel from her.

"I can give it to Barm for you," he said. "I'm filling in for him right now. Marnie—his wife, sorry—just had her baby, but there were some...complications, so he's taking some time off to take care of her and the baby while she rests."

Katniss nodded mutely, not sure what to say. It wasn't unusual for women of Marnie's age to have children, especially with the lack of any real sexual education and district-approved contraception, but she'd heard talk around town that the baby hadn't been planned; they already had two, and there was a bit of an age gap between this one and the others. Katniss knew from her brief conversations with Barm that this pregnancy had been tough on his wife. She wondered if her mother or Prim had assisted in the delivery.

Peeta seemed to notice her discomfort, and, perhaps realizing he'd said too much, he scratched the back of his head. "Okay, well, I can give this to him," he repeated, holding up the squirrel. "What does he normally give you in exchange?"

She cleared her throat, trying to look at anything but him. "Two loaves."

"Any kind of bread in particular?"

Her mouth went dry, and it took her a couple tries to force the answer out. "Raisin and nuts." He started to turn around, but then his body jolted, as if he had fully registered her words. He froze, and they locked eyes.

He remembered. All these years later, and he still remembered that day, too. His cheeks colored, and he finally broke her gaze. "I'll go get it," he muttered, marching back inside, and she took a deep breath, fighting her racing heart. When he returned, he held out a brown paper bag to her. "Here you go."

"Thanks," she whispered, taking a step back to make a hasty retreat.

"Katniss," he said, pulling her up short. He'd said her name; he had never said her name before. She stared at him, wide-eyed.

"You look good," he finished, his voice cracking.

No, she didn't. She knew she didn't. She looked like shit. She and Gale had had another fight the night before, and they were up way too late hurling accusations and insults at each other. Her face was lined with exhaustion, the circles under her eyes dark and puffy.

And yet, Peeta's words made her heart flutter. "You, too," she found herself saying before she could think, and then she was gone, darting around the bakery. Safe in her house she shared with Gale, she collapsed at the kitchen table, flinging the offending bag of bread halfway across the table. She dropped her head in her hand, glad Gale was in the mines; she really needed a moment alone, just a moment to think. What was wrong with her? How could it be 20 fucking years later and she still be so affected by the sight of him?

Since that day at the bakery, the day he got married, the day she'd finally accepted Gale's proposal, she had done her best not to cross paths with Peeta Mellark. He hadn't been hard to avoid, really, since he no longer worked at the bakery. With Barm in charge, getting supplemental help from his parents who still lived above the bakery, as well as his wife and his children, there was really no need for the two younger Mellark brothers. Rye, the middle son, now worked as an accountant at the Justice Building, and Peeta was a teacher at the school. He also coached the wrestling team. Their paths never really intersected, aside from when she'd spot him across town while visiting Prim.

She hadn't been prepared for seeing him today, for actually speaking with him. It was summer, and school was out, so she supposed that was why he had the time to cover for Barm at the bakery. She found herself wondering about him, about his life, allowing herself for the first time in a while a moment to really think about the boy with the bread. She wondered if he was happy.

He had been married for nine years, but he didn't have any children of his own. She didn't give it much thought before, but there had been gossip around town about fertility issues; Prim had confirmed it to her indirectly, as she was the one trying to help his wife, Analise, conceive—to no avail. Katniss almost felt sorry for them—almost, because, she thought, out of everyone in the district, Peeta would probably make the best father.

She wondered how it made Peeta feel, knowing his wife couldn't conceive even one child, while his brother and his sister-in-law had more children than they had even wanted.

She wondered if he was happy, or if he was miserable like she was.

The following Wednesday, Katniss made her usual rounds trading, but before she went to the bakery, she checked the front of the store through the windows. All she saw were the aging Mr. Mellark and his wife assisting customers at the register; she couldn't tell who was in the back. With a sigh, she trudged around to the back of the bakery and knocked, holding her breath.

When the door opened to reveal Peeta, she didn't know if she wanted to curse or laugh. She tried to keep her face impassive, but he smiled at her, the warmth of it throwing her off guard. "Hi—again," she said nervously, fumbling with her game bag to retrieve the squirrel.

"Hi, Katniss," he said softly, and she wondered why he insisted on saying her name out loud.

"Is, uh—how's, uh, Marnie?" she asked, mentally kicking herself for her inability to string together a coherent sentence in his presence.

He pursed his lips, his eyes a little heavier now. "Better. She's still bedridden, but Barm is taking good care of her."

She nodded, pulling the squirrel out and holding it out to him. "And...the baby?" She didn't know why she asked, but it seemed rude not to.

"He's okay," Peeta replied, taking the game from her. He grinned suddenly, the action really lighting up his face, and she was momentarily stunned. "Though, I guess that's to be determined, really."

"What?"

He scratched the dark blonde scruff on his jaw. "Another boy. I feel kind of bad. Pretty soon, this town's going to be overrun by Mellark boys. Everyone must be sick of us by now," he joked lightly, and she knew that wasn't true. The Mellark men were well-liked by most people. And if the alternative was anything like his witch of a mother, another boy was much more preferable.

Still, a small smile curved her lips upward. "I highly doubt that," she said, and his grin slipped somewhat. He stared at her for a moment, his blue eyes rooting her to that doorstep, and she could scarcely breathe. Suddenly, he blinked and shook his head.

"Let me get your bread," he said, turning away from her, and she took a deep breath, her eyelids fluttering closed as she tried to regain her composure. By the time he returned, she had a better grip on her emotions, and she set her face back into a mask of its usual indifference. When he handed her the bag, however, he hesitated. "I, uh, slipped a little something extra in there."

She scowled, already thrusting the bag back toward him, but he pulled his hands away. "What? I don't need anything extra. That's not the deal," she accused.

Peeta held up his hands defensively. "I just thought—I just wanted to give you something different to try. They're cheese buns. It's something new we're trying out here, and I just—I just want your opinion. Just...taste them. I think you'll like them."

She huffed, jerking her game bag open. "Fine, then let me give you something else—"

His eyes widened. "No! No, really, Katniss, it's fine. You're doing us a favor, honest," he insisted, his hand closing over hers on the paper bag, and he thrust it back toward her. "Please. Just...let me know how you like them."

She would have objected more, but the feel of his soft fingers on her knuckles gave her pause. He seemed just as startled by the touch, and her eyes flickered between their hands and his surprised face, which mirrored her own. With a great deal of effort, she wrenched her hand from his and took a step down. "O-okay, fine," she said shakily, her heart beating uncomfortably hard. Confused, she shuffled in two different directions before righting her course, walking away quickly. She heard him call after her, and despite her better judgment, she glanced back. He waved, and she lifted her hand in a halfhearted parting gesture.

That night, she ate the cheese buns before Gale could see them. She knew he would question their sudden appearance, just as she would, and, for some reason she didn't understand, she didn't want to tell him. About the cheese buns or about Peeta. The two men did not coexist well in her mind.

But the buns were incredible. When she ate the last bite, the cheese melting on her tongue, she felt oddly empty despite how satisfying they were. She sucked the grease and crumbs from her fingers earnestly, already craving more.

* * *

The next time Katniss went to trade at the bakery, Barm was back. Despite her twinge of disappointment, she was relieved. Peeta confused her, and she already had enough stress in her life.

So that Sunday, when Peeta approached her at her usual spot in the Hob, she stared at him incredulously.

"Hi," he greeted her with a small smile as he stopped in front of her booth.

She opened and closed her mouth a few times before her voice caught up with her brain. "What—what are you doing here?" she asked, her eyes darting around the Hob. Had anyone noticed him? Merchants didn't do business in the Hob often, unless they were buying alcohol or other contraband items. Her cursory survey of the warehouse revealed that no one seemed to be watching them, at least.

"Oh, well," he wavered, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well, I'm not at the bakery now, and I just—I just wanted to see what you thought of the cheese buns. Did you like them?"

She nervously tucked some hair behind her ear, clearing her throat. "Um, yeah. Yes, I did. They were...they were really good."

Peeta smiled again. "Good. That's good. I'm glad. Did, uh, did Gale try them? What did he think?"

She flushed in embarrassment, looking around again. "Well, he, uh—no, he didn't. I kinda...I kinda ate them all myself."

He chuckled this time. "That's fine. I mean, that's good. I'm really glad you liked them that much," he said, and she shrugged, playing with her braid. They lapsed into silence, and he looked as uncomfortable as she felt.

"Did you come here just to ask that?" she blurted, and his eyebrows lifted.

"Oh, no, no. I actually came to—to buy from you. A condom, I mean." His cheeks reddened, and he visibly swallowed. She stared at him in disbelief, her own face growing hot.

"Okay," she finally squeaked, shuffling through her supplies. She couldn't even bring herself to ask him what size he needed; she just grabbed whatever her hand landed on and shoved it at him, muttering the price. He dropped some coins in her open palm, cramming the condom into his back pocket.

"Bye," he mumbled, hurrying away quickly. Katniss scrubbed a hand down her face.

It wasn't until he was gone that it struck her how odd it was that he had wanted a condom. If his wife was barren, why would they bother with protection? And why would they even want to use protection if they were trying to conceive? Was Prim mistaken about Analise Mellark's infertility? No, her sister wouldn't have made a mistake like that. So, why did he need a condom?

The answer hit her so hard, she nearly fell off her stool. He was sleeping with someone else. Suddenly, she flushed with an inexplicable rage, feeling stupid, like she had been duped somehow. Why should she care who he was fucking? She didn't. His personal life was none of her business.

But when she saw him in the Hob again a week later, she all but growled at him. "I'm not selling you another condom," she spat, and he pulled up short in front of her booth, his mouth dropping open.

"What? Why?"

She folded her arms over her chest. "I'm not going to—to aid you in whatever it is you're doing," she said, and when she realized how loud her voice had gotten, she lowered it; there was still an edge when she spoke, however. "I'm not going to help you cheat on your _wife_."

His face paled. "What? Cheat on my—" he stopped himself, glancing around in alarm, then he leaned closer, practically hissing, "I'm not cheating on my _wife_. Why the hell—what would make you think I'm cheating on Lissy?"

She blinked, dread pooling in her stomach. "I just—I mean...well, I just thought—I mean, I had heard that you two...that she...well, I didn't know why you would need a condom. So I thought you were—with someone else..." Shit.

His faced hardened, and his jaw clenched. He was silent for a moment, then he responded in a low, dangerous tone, "I am not cheating on Analise. But you're right; I don't need a condom." He looked away briefly before his eyes flitted back to her. "I didn't really come to buy anything from you. I just came to see you. But I fucked up. I'm an idiot." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry. I'll stop bothering you." With that, he walked away, and she stared after him, dumbstruck.

What had just happened?

* * *

Over the next few days, Katniss waged an internal debate about whether she should apologize to Peeta. He had been nothing but nice to her in her limited interactions with him, and all she ever managed to do was spit in the face of his kindness.

She should apologize, she finally decided. There was no easy way to go about it, but she screwed up her courage and marched from the Seam to his house in town. She hesitated on his front step, shifting her game bag between her hands. As a woman from the Seam, she knew how it would look, her coming to his front door, so she hoped the presence of her game bag would ward off any suspicions. And she was fairly certain his wife wasn't home; she was a cleric at the Justice Building and should be at work in the middle of the day. Chewing on her lip, she forced herself to knock before she could talk herself out of it. Then she held her breath.

When Peeta opened the door, he narrowed his eyes in confusion. "Katniss—"

"I'm sorry," she said quickly, surprising him. "For the other day. In the Hob. I had no right to—to say what I did. It's none of my business what happens between you and your—and your wife."

Peeta pursed his lips, scratching his chin thoughtfully as he stared over her head, and she fidgeted in the silence. "No, it isn't any of your business," he said brusquely, and she flinched. He sighed, dropping his gaze to her face. "But I suppose everyone in this district has made it their business, so I'm not surprised you know. But I accept your apology."

She inhaled deeply, relieved. "Okay, well...that's all I wanted to say."

His brow creased as he stared at her, and his face softened. "Would you like to come in? For some tea?" he asked, opening the door wider, and she gawked at him.

"Isn't that—isn't that inappropriate?" she choked out, glancing around apprehensively.

Peeta slumped against the door frame with a wry smile. "More inappropriate than discussing my wife's infertility on my doorstep?"

Cringing, Katniss flushed in horror, and she opened her mouth to apologize again, but he waved it off. "It's fine. Stop apologizing. Have some tea with me, and we'll call it even, okay?"

With one last look over her shoulder, she tossed her game bag over her shoulder for added effect and followed him inside as he stepped aside to let her in. He led her to the kitchen, and she tried to discreetly inspect their home. It was nice. Cozy. Better decorated than her and Gale's house. She wondered if that was something Merchants were taught growing up, how to decorate their homes. She and Gale didn't much see the need for frivolous things like decorations, not when that money could be better spent on essentials. Like food and clothes. She felt a little envious, but she swallowed the feeling, standing awkwardly in his kitchen while he dug through the cabinets for cups.

"You have a nice home," she said quietly, setting her bag down. He looked back at her with a forced smile.

"Thank you," he said tightly, and she wondered if he was uncomfortable because he knew her house in the Seam was anything but nice. "Lissy's doing, I guess. I don't...really care for that stuff. Please, have a seat."

She perched awkwardly in one of the chairs at the kitchen table, as if she were ready to take off running at any moment. Peeta sat down across from her, setting two tea cups and a kettle down between them. "Would you like sugar?" he asked, offering her a cup of sugar cubes, and she shrugged.

"I guess."

He spooned a couple into her cup, then poured her some tea. He didn't put any sugar in his cup, she noted. He handed her a spoon, and she used it to stir her tea while he sipped from his own cup. They sat in silence for a moment, and she gulped her tea eagerly for something to do. Peeta watched her intently, and she began to squirm, setting her cup down.

"So, uh, condoms," he said abruptly, startling her. "That's an interesting trade. How did you get started doing that?"

She stared at him as if he had sprouted a second head. Birth control was normally a conversation she could have with anyone without batting an eye; it was just a trade to her, after all, and not something she found shameful. However, discussing it with _him_ made her break out into a light sweat. "Um. Well. I figured there was a real—a real dearth in birth control in this district," she said, looking at a cabinet behind him. "And, I guess, I figured since I had access to the, uh, components that I might as well." She shrugged, fidgeting with the spoon. "My mother helped me in the beginning, to figure out how to make them. Since her family was, you know, in the apothecary business, she knew a lot of useful information."

He nodded, and then he smiled. "You're really smart. Very resourceful."

She looked at him sharply. Was he mocking her? His expression looked genuine. "I...have to be," she said, unsure, and he just nodded again, sipping his tea. She struggled for something else to say. "How do you like teaching?"

He looked pleasantly surprised. "You know what I do?" She furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. Was it weird that she knew? She hid her face behind her cup, embarrassed. "I really like it. I teach reading and writing, things I enjoy. And I get to coach wrestling, which keeps me active. So it's good."

She nodded. "What do you do in the summers?"

He grinned. "Lose my mind." She raised an eyebrow, and he laughed at himself. "I get a little stir-crazy. Probably drive everyone else insane because I'm bugging them, trying to find something to do. I take odd jobs here and there. I bake. I draw. A lot."

That surprised her. "You draw?" He nodded, looking a little sheepish. Then he pointed to a picture that hung above the sink. Her eyes widened; the charcoal sketch was so vivid, so precise, that she immediately recognized the apple tree from behind the bakery. The one she had collapsed under 20 years ago. She swallowed thickly, trying to find the words. "That's really...really...good. It's really good," she said lamely, draining the last of her tea. She set the cup down. "I should probably—I should go."

"Wait," he said, stretching his arm toward her, but he flattened his palm against the table. "Katniss...I would really like to be your friend."

That pulled her up short. "Friend?" she repeated, and he nodded. Was that a joke? "You want to be my friend?" He smiled this time. "Don't you already have enough friends?"

He snapped his fingers. "You know what? You're right. I forgot I already made a new friend last week, so I guess I've hit my quota for the year." He grinned at her, and her lips twitched in amusement. "I do have friends, but I would still like to be yours."

Friends. She didn't really have any friends, she guessed. Gale used to be her best friend, but now that they were married and constantly fighting, she didn't really talk to him anymore, not like she had in the past. She used to be friends with Madge Undersee, but they drifted apart after they finished school, though Madge was pleasant enough when they ran into each other in town. And Katniss got along with the other vendors in the Hob, especially Greasy Sae and Ripper, but she couldn't say she'd ever invite anyone over for tea, or they, her. Really, the only person she talked to extensively was Prim, but Prim had a daughter to raise now, patients to tend to.

Katniss was kind of lonely, she realized. It wasn't a feeling she was used to; she usually liked her solitude. But maybe she could use a friend now.

"Okay," she said simply, and he quirked an eyebrow.

"So you'll allow it?" She nodded, and he smiled widely. "Okay." Sliding her chair back from the table, she stood up and grabbed her bag. Peeta stood up, too, and followed her to the door.

She turned around to face him. "Well...thank you for the tea, Peeta," she said, suddenly realizing how close he was to her. She was so unprepared for his proximity that when he pulled her into a hug, she found herself hugging him back before her reflexes kicked in and her body stiffened. He was already pulling away, the action so quick, but in that brief moment, she noticed three things. The first was how sturdy he was, how broad his chest was pressed against hers. The second was how he smelled, like cinnamon and dill—she thought she recognized—a scent that was so strangely alluring, so oddly masculine. The third was the way the soft scruff on his face scratched her neck. Gale always shaved; he said he hated the feel and smell of the coal dust collecting in his beard while he worked in the mines, and she agreed.

Peeta stepped back, looking as equally flustered. "Uh, sorry. Was that out of line?"

"N-no, it's fine, you're fine," she stammered, fumbling with the doorknob. "Bye." She tried not to rush out of his house, but it took every ounce of her self-control not to run as she crossed through town back to the Seam.

Katniss paced her living room, trying to quell the anxiety surging inside her. She and Peeta were just friends, barely that, even, as they had been mostly strangers not even an hour ago. She hardly knew him; she didn't know him enough to be fretting _this_ much about him. It was only a hug. Peeta probably hugged all his friends. Just because she was emotionally and physically withdrawn, that didn't mean others were as uncomfortable with affection as she was. She replayed the way he wrapped his arms around her and flushed at the memory.

She needed a bath. Heating up some water on the stove, she gradually filled their small copper tub. By the time she had stripped off her clothes and slid into the tub, the water was only lukewarm, but she still sighed, the tension melting from her bones. She washed herself leisurely, lathering a washcloth with soap and running it over her body. Leaning her head back, she dragged the washcloth up to her neck, and, unbidden, she recalled the way Peeta's beard had grazed against her throat. She gasped, her eyes snapping open as the thought sent a pulse of desire between her thighs. Shit.

So, she was horny. Fine. She and Gale hadn't had sex in a while, and her body just craved a release. She brushed the washcloth over her breasts, and her other hand dropped under the water between her legs, her fingers quickly finding the bundle of nerves that begged for her attention. The tips of her fingers pressed down, moving deliberately, and she tried to conjure up an image of Gale to spark her arousal. But it was Peeta's grin, his bright blue eyes she saw, his broad back and his soft beard she felt when she shuddered in pleasure, gasping as she came. As the high of her climax subsided, she sank farther into the water, racked with guilt and shame, until the water lapped over her mouth. She shouldn't be thinking about another man like that. A man who was also married. What was wrong with her?

Katniss quickly climbed out of the tub and toweled off, dumping the bathwater out back. When Gale came home from work that evening, in her guilt, she sought out his affection. He regarded her suspiciously when she sat in his lap at the dinner table.

"What's gotten into you?" he asked, and she shrugged, pressing kisses along his neck.

"I just thought you might like a little relief after your day," she murmured, sucking on his pulse point, and he groaned, his hands sliding under her shirt. She unbuttoned his pants and slipped her hand inside to grasp his growing erection. "Let's move to the bedroom."

They had sex for the first time in months; after he'd came, he peeled the condom off his cock and settled between her legs, finishing her using his tongue. Arching underneath him, she couldn't help but wonder what Peeta's beard would feel like against her thighs as he pleasured her with his mouth.

She lay awake for most of the night after that, Gale snoring away beside her, dead to the world.

* * *

The next week, Peeta sidled up to her booth in the Hob casually, and she fought the blush that heated her cheeks, trying not to think about her recurring fantasies that centered around him. "'Morning," he said, and she nodded in greeting.

"Come to purchase more condoms?" she asked, and he chuckled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head.

"Ah, no, not this time," he replied, showing her a bottle of clear liquor he bought from Ripper. "But I thought I'd come bug you, anyway."

A shy smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "So, is this your idea of friendship? Because I'm starting to rethink this arrangement."

He grinned. "Have I scared you off already? This might be a new record for me. Maybe I need to draft a contract for all my new friends to sign or something," he mused, bracing himself against her booth.

"You should probably include a trial period so they can change their minds after a predetermined time frame," she suggested, and he pretended to mull her idea over.

"Or maybe I should start paying for my friends' time with cheese buns," he said with a crooked smile, and this time she blushed.

Clearing her throat, she brushed some loose pieces of hair off her face. "Is that part of the deal? Because forget what I said earlier. I think you might just be my new best friend," she replied, smiling when he laughed.

"Bribing friends with baked goods; I see. I guess I've been doing it wrong all this time," he lamented dramatically, and she shrugged.

"Ply them with cheese buns, and I think you'll never find yourself in short supply of friends."

"Well, now I know why I decided to befriend you. You clearly have all the best ideas," he said, quirking an eyebrow, and she rolled her eyes, playing with her braid. With a sigh, he looked around before flashing her another smile. "I guess I should leave you alone now before I scare off your customers. They might think I'm buying up all your condoms," he joked, and she scoffed, smiling, anyway.

"Yeah, you should probably start baking right away if you plan to make any more friends," she said, and he bowed to her.

"Thank you for imparting your wisdom on me, Katniss." With one last smile, he walked away, her gaze lingering in the direction he'd left long after he was gone.

Fucked. She was fucked.

* * *

Making friends with Peeta Mellark was a terrible, ill thought-out idea, she realized. He came around too often, tracking her down at the Hob when she worked to "keep her company," he'd said. She was at least glad he actually purchased things while he was there, whether it was more alcohol from Ripper or some stew from Greasy Sae, because then it didn't look like he was solely visiting her. But he must have been because she'd never seen him in the Hob before. Was she his only friend who didn't work normal hours in an officially approved job? She just might have been; somehow, she doubted he had any other friends from the Seam.

And yet, despite knowing it was a bad idea, she still couldn't bring herself to send him away. She rather enjoyed his company. He made her laugh, something she didn't do often anymore—or ever, really. Peeta wasn't the only Merchant to patronize the Hob, not in the least, but he was the only one who spent time in her company, almost exclusively. Surely, people had to be talking.

That fact was confirmed to her when Gale confronted her about it over dinner one night.

"Are you fucking Peeta Mellark?" he asked, his voice razor sharp, his gray eyes glinting.

She blanched, dropping her fork to her plate. "What? No! What the hell—why would you even ask me that?" she demanded, her temper flaring.

He regarded her coldly, his eyes narrowed as he stared at her. "Thom told me Mellark's been hanging around you at the Hob. Why would he be hanging around you?"

Her nostrils flared, but underneath her anger she felt fear bubbling. "He's not—hanging around _me_. He's there to buy shit. He's there to buy alcohol and food, and he—he buys condoms from me. He stops to chat with everyone there," she said as evenly as she could, knowing she was partially lying.

Gale snorted, leaning back in his chair. "And what does he need condoms for?"

"I don't know! Ask him, ask his wife! Ask whoever he's sleeping with because it's not me!" she yelled. "I hardly even know him!"

He just shook his head, a sneer pulling at his lips. "Can you blame me for being suspicious? That guy's had a hard-on for you since school."

Her eyes widened. "What? What are you talking about?"

"Oh, come on, you can't tell me you didn't notice," he said with a scoff. "He stared at you all the time! You mean to tell me you didn't notice? Bullshit."

"No, I—" Katniss faltered, gaping at him as she tried to digest the new information. Had she noticed Peeta staring at her? Of course. But because he _liked_ her? No. That couldn't have been it. It was because of the bread. Because he expected a thank you or some kind of acknowledgement. That was why. Wasn't it? She shook her head, desperately clinging to her denial. "It doesn't matter what he thought of me in school. I'm not fucking him, and I can't even believe you would accuse me of something like that!"

She pushed away from the table and snatched her plate up, carrying it to the sink where she dropped it, loudly. She heard Gale stand up behind her.

"Whatever. I'm going to get a drink at the Hob," he said through gritted teeth, but she didn't acknowledge him. Their front door slammed shut, and she inhaled shakily. She was trembling now, and she gripped the sink so tight, her fingers turned white.

It didn't matter if Peeta liked her in school. That didn't mean he still liked her. That was a long time ago, and he was married now. If he had actually liked her, he would have said something sooner.

It didn't matter. She didn't like him, anyway.

But, then, why couldn't she stop thinking about him? Why did she think of him when she touched herself? Horrified, she buried her face in her hands. What had she gotten herself into?

It had to stop. She had to stop it. She couldn't be friends with Peeta Mellark anymore.

* * *

As he approached her booth the following Thursday afternoon, Peeta smiled easily at her, but she kept her face hard, an action that didn't go unnoticed by him. He frowned, stopping before her. "What's wrong?" he asked, genuine concern in his voice, and she shook her head.

"You need to stop coming around here," she said, her voice low. Her eyes darted around the Hob, wondering who was watching them, waiting to report back to Gale. Peeta's brow furrowed.

"Why?"

"Because." He watched her expectantly, and she huffed. "Because people talk, Peeta."

He looked at her oddly. "Yeah. I know they do. People always talk, Katniss. What's your point?"

She ground her teeth. "Stop playing dense. People talk, and they think you and I—you and I..."

He just blinked. "You and I what?"

"Oh, come off it, Peeta," she hissed, her fingers curling into fists. "You know what they're thinking."

He sighed, rubbing his scruffy chin. "So, what—a man and a woman can't just be friends anymore? Without something illicit going on?"

She glared at him. "No, not when the woman is from the _Seam_, Peeta. You know how that looks to people."

His eyes darkened, his lips pursing stubbornly. "I don't care about that shit. These arbitrary class differences that dictate who can be friends with whom, who can love—" He stopped himself abruptly, swallowing, and she felt her pulse throb in her neck.

"They're not just arbitrary, Peeta; they're real," she ground out, a flush heating up her face. "And I have to deal with them every day. I have to deal with people judging me, looking down on me. So it doesn't matter what you care about because this affects _me_. I can't be your friend anymore."

His face fell then, the corners of his mouth and his eyes creasing with sadness. He dropped his head, and her heart constricted painfully. But when he glanced back up, he smiled ruefully. "Okay. I'm sorry. I will respect your wishes," he said, his voice thick. "It was nice while it lasted, but I guess I knew it couldn't last forever. Take care of yourself, Katniss."

Shoving his hands in his pockets, he walked away, and she tried not to stare after him. She looked down, blinking against the tears. What was wrong with her? She felt horrible, the anger over the situation giving way to a new anguish. She bit down on her lip, hard, but her mind was racing.

It wasn't fair. Why should anyone besides her get to decide who she could or couldn't spend time with? She didn't have a friend in this whole damn district, and she was supposed to drive away the only person who had ever really gave a damn enough to befriend her, just because the prejudiced assholes of this town thought it was improper?

Her head flew up, and she looked in the direction he'd left. Glancing at Greasy Sae to her right, she made up her mind. "Hey, Sae, can you keep an eye on my booth for a minute? I gotta get something from my house." Sae nodded, and Katniss darted around her booth, walking briskly out of the Hob. She spotted Peeta not too far up ahead, ambling toward town, and she jogged to catch up to him.

"Peeta, wait!" she called to him quietly, and he stopped, turning around with an expression of surprise, but his face slipped into one of dejection when he looked at her. Slowing to a stop a couple of feet away from him, she glanced around nervously. "It's not that I don't want to be friends with you. It's just...I can't deal with people gossiping about me, spreading rumors and telling Gale things that aren't—true."

He nodded sadly but didn't speak. She took a deep breath, wrapping her arms around her stomach. "I—I do want to be your friend. I do. It's nice to have someone to talk to..." she trailed off, and he looked at her wistfully. "I guess, I just don't really have friends. Close ones, anyway. I'm handling this all wrong, I guess." She tugged fretfully on her braid, and he smiled at her finally, a small one. "Maybe...maybe we can still be friends. You just can't come around the Hob anymore."

Peeta raised an eyebrow. "So...friends who don't see each other, then?" His tone was teasing, and she was glad his eyes had lost that sad look. She smiled bashfully, trying to fight it, and she looked away from him, squinting into the distance at the woods.

"There's a meadow, near the edge of the woods, past the Seam," she said quietly. "If you want to talk sometime, maybe...we can meet there." He was quiet, and when she finally glanced at him, his face was slack with disbelief. She started to backtrack. "It was a stupid idea, never mind—"

"No!" he interrupted. "No. I mean...I just, I've never been there before. I think that would be...nice. I would like that." He smiled at her, a shy smile, and her heart rate spiked. This was wrong; she should tell him she changed her mind.

But she smiled at him instead.

* * *

They met in the meadow on Wednesday. She returned from a hunting trip in the woods to find him lying near a patch of dandelions, and she watched him silently for a moment. His eyes were closed, his face lifted toward the sun. She was almost sorry to disturb him. Approaching quietly, she stood over him and nudged his arm with the toe of her boot. He jumped, his eyes flying open, but he smiled as he squinted at her.

"I didn't even hear you," he said, sitting up.

"I wouldn't be a very good hunter if you did," she retorted, and he laughed. She sat down cross-legged beside him, setting her bag down. "I can't stay too long because I've got to trade this game before it goes bad."

Peeta nodded, picking at the blades of grass near his knee. They were quiet for a moment until he spoke up, "This is really nice out here. I think I'll bring some parchment next time to draw." She hummed a noncommittal sound, propping her elbow up on her knee and resting her chin in her palm.

"I'm sure that would be nice. The apple tree you drew was incredibly realistic," she finally said, hesitant, and he turned his eyes on her.

"Thanks," he said, his voice soft. "Spent a lot of time looking at that damn tree, I guess." She looked away then, swallowing her shame at the 20-year-old memory, and she wondered if his fascination with that tree had anything to do with her.

Digging through her game bag, she pulled out a smaller pouch and opened it to reveal some strawberries she had picked. "Would you like some?" she offered, setting the pouch down on the ground next to him. He nodded, snatching one up and biting into it.

"Thank you," he said around the strawberry, his eyes lighting up. "These are good." Katniss smiled, picking one up for herself. Chewing thoughtfully, Peeta dropped the stem of the strawberry to the ground and sucked the juices off his fingers. She squirmed as she watched him. "We—well, not me anymore—but at the bakery, they've got a really good strawberry shortcake. You should try it sometime." She bit into her strawberry, her fingers catching some of the juices that dribbled down her chin. "Or...I could make it for you," he suggested, and she looked at him sharply.

"Oh, no, I couldn't let you do that—"

"So, you can share your food with me, but I can't?" he asked wryly, then he grinned. "Sorry. I'm doing it anyway, so you're just gonna have to deal. That's what friends do."

She rolled her eyes, swallowing another bite of strawberry. "Fine." They lapsed into a brief silence while they ate more of the berries until she spoke up again, "Reaping's this Sunday." His gaze shifted to her face, then off into the distance. It was the first reaping in 20 years where she didn't have to worry about someone being chosen, whether it was herself or someone she cared about. Last year had been Posy's last reaping. Until her niece, Aster, hit reaping age, she had a brief respite from the dread and stress of the games.

"Yeah," Peeta said darkly, and she was reminded that he had nephews to worry about, nephews who were reaping age.

"Sorry..." she offered weakly, and he just shook his head.

"Not your fault." He stared at the ground for a moment, silent. "It's not really my nephews I worry about, if I'm being honest. I know the odds favor them." He looked up at her. "It's my students. I teach a lot of kids from town and the Seam. I know them pretty well. It's tough, worrying about them." He swallowed, his eyes a stormy blue. "A few of them...I've known a few of the ones who've been chosen, over the years. They don't ever come back."

Her breath hitched slightly. "I..." She didn't know what to say. She never considered how it might be for him as a teacher, watching his students get shipped off to die. Shaking her head, she looked away. "I just don't get it," she said simply, her mouth curving into a frown.

"What?"

"I just—I don't even understand how people can want kids. It was horrible enough worrying about my sister. I know it's going to be horrible when it's Aster's time. And, I mean, I can only imagine how it feels when it's actually people you know, people you care about, who are chosen. I just don't get it. I just—sometimes I feel like the only person in this district who doesn't suddenly and completely forget what that mind-numbing terror feels like every damn year when it's time for the reaping."

He laughed, a dark, biting sound, and she startled, gawking at him. "You're probably right," he mused, leaning back on his hands. "Sometimes, I think, maybe it was a very cruel blessing that I could never have kids of my own."

She cringed at how callous she had probably sounded to him. "Sorry, I didn't mean...sorry."

He shrugged. "I meant it. I've had a lot of time to think about it. Maybe I should be grateful. I don't know." He paused, looking at her. "Every year around this time, I wonder, who's it going to be? Will it be someone I know? Because most of the time, it is. I know most of these kids at least casually, even if I never taught them directly. Every year I watch, suffering in a silent kind of misery because I know these kids aren't coming home. I'll never see them around school, in my classroom, on the wrestling team." His voice was raw, and the sound tugged at her heart. "There was one kid one year, Doran. He was on the team. He was...he was a really good kid." Katniss remembered him; he was also from the Seam. "I thought, maybe he could win. He was strong. Really smart. But...he was gutted in the bloodbath by a Career."

Katniss stared at his profile. She could see the tears shining in his eyes, and she didn't know what to say. Cautiously, she inched her hand closer to his, the one that rested in the grass close to her, until her fingers nudged his. She wrapped her hand around two of his fingers, squeezing in what she hoped was a comforting gesture, and he looked at her, his mouth parting in surprise. His gaze dropped down to their hands, and she was about to retract hers when he squeezed back. He smiled at her then, and her heart fluttered.

They sat there for a little while longer until Katniss begrudgingly left to do her trading for the day. Peeta decided to stay in the meadow for a bit, and she waved goodbye with a promise to meet him there next week.

* * *

When she wandered into the meadow a week later, Peeta was already there, sketching in a parchment pad. She snuck up behind him to look over his shoulder. He was drawing the woods and the fence that separated it from the meadow.

"That is really good," she commented, making him jump, and she tried not to laugh.

He chuckled, shooting her an exasperated look as she sat down next to him. "One of these days, I'm not going to startle when you approach."

"Good luck with that," she said with mock sincerity, smiling when he laughed again. He set his pad aside and showed her a basket he had brought with him.

"For you," he said, and she took the basket from him warily. "It's probably a little melted now, though. Sorry." Curious, she peered inside. A strawberry shortcake wrapped in plastic was nestled inside on a plate. She looked at him sternly.

"You didn't."

"I did."

She sighed. "Peeta—"

"Nope, I don't wanna hear it. You're gonna eat it, and you're gonna like it," he asserted, picking up his pad to start drawing again.

She scoffed. "And what if I don't like it?"

He shrugged. "Impossible. The Mellarks make the best damn strawberry shortcake in the entire district."

"No one else makes strawberry shortcake in this district."

"Exactly." He winked at her then ducked his head back to his drawing, the stick of charcoal scratching across the parchment. Sighing, Katniss unwrapped the shortcake and picked up a fork he had included.

"What about you? Are you going to eat?" she asked, but he shook his head.

"I ate enough while I was making it for you. I'm stuffed. That's all for you."

Carefully, she scooped up some of the shortcake with her fork, making sure to get a large bite of strawberries and whipped cream, and she shoveled it into her mouth. Chewing slowly, she moaned in the back of her throat, and she blushed when she realized he was watching her. She swallowed. "You should include cheese buns and strawberry cupcakes in that friendship contract of yours."

He chuckled. "I thought you might appreciate it." She scarfed down the rest of the shortcake, and he drew in silence. When she was finished, she pushed the basket aside and stretched out in the grass beside him. He glanced at her. "No trading today?"

"I got it done earlier," she said, looking up at him. He turned his eyes back to his paper, but a smile played at the corner of his lips. She watched him as he drew. After a few minutes of silence, she asked him, "Did you know either of the tributes chosen?"

His hand stilled, his face falling, and he glanced at her with a nod. "Siobhan was in my class a couple years ago," he said solemnly. She didn't know what to say, so she chewed on her lip.

"Peeta," she said a moment later, and he hummed a response. "Did you and—Analise ever...think about adopting from the community home?" At his look, she rushed to add, "You don't have to answer that if you don't want..."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I wanted to. But she...didn't. You have to understand that—she felt—_feels_—broken, in a way. She told me she didn't want a child that wasn't her own, _our_ own. It makes her angry, I guess. And the kids in the home, she..." He faltered, looking at her sadly. "Well, she thinks they're broken, too. And she doesn't want a reminder of her own brokenness."

Narrowing her eyes, Katniss looked away to glare at the sky. She understood what he hadn't said: Analise thought those kids were broken because they were from the Seam. Because Seam children were the ones who were most often left homeless and parentless.

"You didn't want kids?" he asked quietly, and she shook her head, dreading this conversation. But she was the one who had initiated it. "And Gale...?"

"He does," she said sullenly. "He's not too happy with me. But he knew...he knew before we married. Guess he just thought I'd change my mind..." Her voice caught, and she cleared her throat, closing her eyes against the glare of the sun.

Peeta was quiet for a while, and she heard the scratching of his charcoal again. Finally, he muttered, "I guess it's funny how things work out." She didn't know if "funny" was the right word, but she grunted petulantly. "Here, I drew you something."

She opened her eyes and looked at him in surprise. "Oh?" She sat up as he tore the parchment out of his pad and handed it to her. Her eyebrows shot up when she realized he had sketched her, lying in the grass, her face turned toward the sky, her braid coiled on the ground. Her jaw dropped, and she looked up at him, a slight flushing warming her face. "Oh," she squeaked. "It's really good, Peeta, but...what am I going to do with a picture of myself?"

He grinned at her then, taking the paper from her. "Okay, fine. I'll just keep it for myself." His eyes glinted mischievously, and the flush ignited her entire body. Ripping out another sheet of paper, he gave that to her. It was the picture of the woods he had been working on earlier. "You can have this instead."

She smiled, gingerly skimming her fingers over the image, careful not to smudge the charcoal. "I...thank you." She looked up at him, worry creasing her forehead. "You keep giving me things, and I haven't really given you anything in return..."

With a shrug, he gathered his things and stood up. "So, give me something next week if you want. But I don't expect anything. Your company is enough." Scooping the basket up, he smiled down at her. "I gotta head back. See you next Wednesday?" She nodded, and he tipped his head in parting before turning away. Her eyes lingered in his direction until she couldn't see his form anymore, and one thought crossed her mind: What was he going to do with that picture of her?

* * *

The first words out of her mouth when she saw him next were an apology. Siobhan had died in the arena on the second day. Neither District 12 tribute had lasted long, no thanks to their drunken mentor, Haymitch Abernathy. She wondered if he had even sobered up long enough to help them in the games, but she guessed—_knew_—that answer to be no.

Peeta shrugged halfheartedly, his eyes troubled. He had brought his sketch pad with him, but he just sat it aside, choosing instead to lie in the meadow on his back and stare at the passing clouds above.

"Sometimes, I think to myself, eventually I'm going to stop feeling anything during these games. By now, I should be used to it, you know? I should be numb to it. It has to stop hurting at some point, right?" he asked, pain bracketing his face. She didn't know how to answer that. Was she numb to it yet? She certainly hadn't been when Prim was at risk. "But then I think...the day that happens, the day it no longer hurts, I'd be no different than those in the Capitol. That's the day I'd be truly lost."

She nodded, and they sat in silence, but it was comfortable this time. After a while, he began to describe the shapes and images he saw in the clouds overhead, and she just listened to him. His voice was soothing, a gravelly rumble in his chest she could feel in her own as he spoke. Pulling up the dandelions that surrounded her, she tied the stems together until she had a long strand of flowers. Then she knotted the ends together to create a loop.

"Here," she said, holding it out to him. He squinted at her.

"What is it?"

"It's a crown. I made it for you," she said, feeling a little silly, but he sat up with a smile and took it from her. "You said last week to give you something, so...now you have a crown. My dad used to make them for me," she added, compelled to explain, and she picked at her shoelace.

"Thank you." There was a note of awe in his voice when he spoke. He placed it atop his blonde curls, and the grin he shot her was dazzling. "How do I look?"

Katniss smiled at him. "Like a king," she quipped, and his grin twisted into a lopsided smirk. He grunted, scratching at his beard.

"King of the meadow, maybe," he remarked, bitter amusement lacing his voice. "Not much competition out here for the title, though, so..."

She quirked an eyebrow. "You don't think I could take you for the crown?" she teased, but the look he shot her was more devastating than humorous.

"Oh, I think you could absolutely destroy me, Katniss," he uttered, and she felt her heart stop. In that moment, she knew; she finally understood just how dangerous of a game they were playing, the two of them.

* * *

Peeta wasn't in the meadow the next week when she arrived. Katniss frowned as she scanned the area; the clouds were thick and gray overhead, a slight breeze whipping loose strands of her hair around her face. She decided to sit down and wait. And wait. She was about to get up and leave when she spotted him walking toward her. She nearly sighed in relief, unsettled by how upset she had been in his absence. As he got closer, she saw how troubled his face was. She narrowed her eyes as he plopped down next to her, but he didn't say anything yet.

"I thought maybe you weren't coming," she said hesitantly. He sighed, dropping his chin to his chest.

"I almost didn't," he said, and she just stared at him in confusion. Smiling sadly, he finally looked up at her, and she noticed the cut on his bottom lip; the area was red and swollen, split down the middle in a scabbed-over line. Her eyes widened.

"What happened to your mouth?" she asked, and he shook his head.

"It's nothing."

She narrowed her eyes again. "Did someone...hit you?" Was it his mother? That woman's abuse was well-known around the district, but her children were older now, moved out. She couldn't still be hitting them, could she?

Peeta ran a hand through his mussed curls, his face darkening. "It's not a big deal," he mumbled, and she felt rage swelling in her chest.

"Peeta, tell me what happened," she demanded, as if she had any right to demand things of him. Finally, he sighed again, and reached into his pocket, throwing an object down on the ground between them. Her eyes dropped to it, and her mouth parted in surprise. It was a condom. The condom he had bought from her weeks ago, to be exact. Alarmed, she glanced back up at him.

"Lissy found it," he said sourly, and her face paled. "Accused me of having an affair. She wouldn't listen to me..."

"And she—and she _hit_ you?" she asked incredulously.

Peeta looked away, pocketing the condom. "She gets angry sometimes," he said after a beat. "She's not a bad person. It's just...things haven't been easy for her the last few years. I try to be understanding; I try to hold my tongue. But...sometimes I can't take it. And she snaps." He picked at some blades of grass between his legs, and she stared at him, speechless. "I told her that obviously I wasn't fucking someone else since the condom hasn't been used. She didn't care too much for my sarcasm," he said drolly.

Her stomach twisted. "Did you—did you tell her...about—about me?" she whispered fearfully, and he looked at her, his eyes narrowed.

"No. I wouldn't do that. You told me you didn't want anyone to know." He shrugged as if it were that simple. She wondered how his wife would react if she knew he was meeting up with a woman from the Seam every week. Nervously, Katniss looked away, not sure what to say. This was her fault. Peeta was always taking blows to save her, to protect her. First, his mother, and now, his wife. Why did he keep doing it? When she never gave him anything in return, not even her appreciation?

She found herself leaning closer to him then, her arm reaching for him. He froze when her fingertips grazed his swollen lip, his eyes wide. Her heart was in her throat as her face hovered just inches from his, and then she pressed her lips to the tender cut. She both heard and felt him inhale sharply; she started to pull away, but his hand gripped her elbow, holding her in place. Their hot breaths mingled, warming her lips, and her eyes locked on his blue ones; they were darker than usual, his pupils thick, nearly swallowing the entire iris. Her blood thundered in her ears, and she was sure he could hear it.

They were in something of a standoff, neither knowing whether to pull away or push forward. Finally, Peeta broke the stalemate.

"Don't stop," he pleaded, his voice strangled, and before she could even think, she melded her mouth to his lip, the tip of her tongue laving the cut. He made a choked sound in the back of his throat, his fingers tightening around her elbow, and the noise emboldened her. Cupping his jaw with her hand, she sucked his lip into her mouth. She tasted something metallic, and her tongue swiped over his reopened cut, tasting more of his blood. She sucked greedily on his lip, wondering if she was hurting him, wondering why she couldn't stop.

He groaned, deep in his chest, and then his tongue was touching hers, sliding into her mouth. She gasped in shock, but he pulled her closer so that she was practically in his lap. Curling her fingers into his hair, she opened her mouth wider to his, and their tongues clashed eagerly.

At that moment, a drop of water hit her forehead, her nose, her cheek. But she didn't notice until it was raining steadily, and she blinked uncomprehendingly, jerking away from him. They stared at each other, both breathing heavily as the rain fell harder around them, hitting the grass in a loud, steady rhythm. The blood on his lip trickled down his chin in a pink, meandering line. Without much thought, she jumped up and pulled him to his feet with her. Then, she was running, back to the Seam, back to her house. She could hear his feet pounding the dirt behind her, just over the deafening sound of the rain beating the ground as they ran to escape it.

On her doorstep, she fumbled with the front door, her hands shaking, and she shoved it open. Stumbling inside, she whirled around, but Peeta hesitated on the doorstep. Seized with fear, she yanked him inside, praying no one saw him, saw them. She slammed the door shut behind him, and then they just stared at each other, their chests heaving from their sprint to her house. She knew his eyes mirrored her own, wide with trepidation and doubt and want. So much want.

"Katniss—" he started, his voice quivering, but she didn't want him to talk. She was afraid that if he talked, the spell would be broken, and she'd have to think about what they were doing. She didn't want to think; she just wanted to _do_.

So she silenced him with her mouth, her tongue finding his again. He cradled her face in his hands, and she guided him into the living room backwards. She hit the couch and grunted, but he swallowed the sound, pinning her body between his and the couch. His hardness pressed into her stomach, startling her, and she pushed him away. Stumbling backward, he gawked at her, but when he noticed her staring at his groin, he flushed in embarrassment. "I—I...I'm sor—"

But she was tugging his shirt upward before he could finish, and then her fingers floundered with the buttons on her shirt. Getting the hint, Peeta peeled his wet shirt off the rest of the way and dropped it to the ground. Her hands stilled, her eyes riveted to the broad expanse of his chest and his shoulders, the tautness of his stomach. Heat spiraled through her body, spiking between her thighs. She wanted him. Oh, God, she wanted him.

Peeta moved in front of her, his fingers quickly unfastening the rest of her buttons, and when he pushed the shirt down her arms, his mouth covered hers again. She sucked on his tongue hungrily, and he pressed his hardness into her. She bucked her hips against his, eliciting groans from both of them, and then he lifted her into his arms, carrying her around the couch where he lowered her to the cushions. He leaned back, and she eagerly unbuttoned her pants, shimmying out of them. He helped her, yanking her boots off along with her pants. Only her underwear remained, and he stared at her, something unreadable on his face. She trembled, the doubt from before surging stronger, but she was desperate to ignore it, to escape it.

"Peeta," she whimpered, sitting up on her elbows. "Don't—don't stop." Roused by her plea, he rose to his feet and undid his own pants. She scrambled to remove her bra and panties, and when she looked at him again, her stomach bottomed out. His cock strained upward, impossibly hard, protruding from a patch of dark blonde curls. Slick with desire, she lay back on the cushions, her legs spread in invitation. His eyes raked the length of her body, lingering on the glistening juncture of her thighs; his stare only made her ache more.

"Katniss..." he murmured hoarsely, swallowing thickly. "You're beautiful. You're so beautiful. I..."

She reached for him, her body thrumming with need and desperation. "Now, Peeta. Now, now, _now_," she begged, wanting to feel the weight of his body on top of hers, just as she had thought about, night after night. He settled between her legs, capturing her lips and her tongue in a heady kiss, and she slid her hands through his damp hair. Her hips cradled his, but when she felt his cock slide through her dark curls, she gasped, pushing on his shoulders. "Condom," she managed to get out, and he snatched up his pants from the floor, digging the condom out and freeing it from its pouch. The irony of the moment was not lost on Katniss, but she pushed the thought away, impatiently helping him roll it down over his cock. He groaned at her touch. His flesh was hot, even through the condom, and he was heavy and thick in her hand.

She pulled him back to her center, lifting her pelvis to his, and when the tip of his cock slid between her folds, he held her hips down to push into her. She moaned loudly, drowning out the sound of his own relief. She felt full, stretched wide; it was almost painful. She expected him to keep moving, but he stopped once the full length of his cock was buried inside her. She squirmed anxiously, but he kissed her mouth, her neck, her breasts, sucking off the lingering droplets of rain. His tongue teased her pebbled nipple, and she arched against him. When his hand slipped between her thighs, his fingers brushing her swollen clit, she gasped, clenching him inside her reflexively.

"Fuck," he hissed, but his fingers bore down harder, drawing circles, and she clawed at his back. "There?" he asked, his teeth scraping her nipple. She nodded frantically. "Is that what you want?"

"Yes!" she gasped, rocking her hips in time with his fingers in what little space she had to move. His large body trapped her to the couch, and he sucked her nipple into his mouth, humming his approval of the way her body gripped his cock. His fingers moved deftly between her thighs, the pleasure coiling tight inside her.

"I'm—I—" Words escaped her, and when his teeth tugged on her nipple, she came with a breathless shout. He groaned as she trembled underneath him, pulsing around him. And then he was moving, pulling his cock out just to push it back in. She whimpered in her bliss, opening her legs wider for him. His thrusts were hard, relentless, his hips driving hers into the cushion, and when his fingers began moving between her thighs again, she gasped in surprise, still sensitive from her first orgasm. But the pain was exquisite, and her hands simultaneously pushed and pulled at his chest, unsure what she wanted from him.

He kissed her, swallowing her pleading sounds. "It's okay, it's okay," he whispered into her mouth, his fingers rubbing her clit with unforgiving mercy. She moaned then, a whining mewl, and soon her hips jerked against his wildly, desperate for the relief he promised her. "God, this is—fuck, this is so _good_. So—so good, so much better than I've imagined," he whimpered in her ear, and she wanted to tell him the same, but her coherent thought was long gone by that point. With one artful stroke of his fingers, she exploded again, crying into his neck. Peeta grunted, thrusting erratically until his hips strained against hers. He moaned her name into her shoulder, and she felt him throbbing inside her, her own body still quivering with pleasure. It took a while for her to stop shaking, the only sound in the room their labored breathing.

But as the ecstasy subsided, the doubt filled its place. The full weight of what they had done finally settled on her. Her stomach twisted with guilt, and she pushed on his shoulders. "You—you have to go," she stuttered, still dazed from her orgasms, but the horror was pushing through the haze then.

He sat up, his somewhat softened cock sliding out of her, and she tried not to think about how empty she felt. He looked stunned, and she scrambled to pull her underwear on. "We shouldn't have...oh, _God_, we shouldn't have done that," she whimpered, rushing around the couch to grab her shirt and shrug it on. She distractedly rebuttoned it, missing a few in her haste.

"Katniss."

When she glanced at him, he had already put his boxers and shirt on, but he held his pants in one hand and the used condom in the other. "What—what do you want me to do with this?" he asked dumbly, and she gaped at him.

"I don't...I don't know...Rinse it out and take it with you. You can't leave that here!" she cried, borderline hysterical, and he struggled to put his pants on with one hand. Once he had pulled them up over his hips and slipped his shoes on, he crossed into the kitchen to the sink. She turned away while he washed the condom, trying not to hyperventilate. She looked back at him as he shuffled toward her, fastening his pants. His hair was disheveled, his cheeks flushed a rosy color, but his blue eyes reflected her terror. "Katniss—"

"This was a mistake. This was a—this was a _huge_ fucking mistake, Peeta," she said, her voice catching. She stepped back as he moved closer, and he halted. "You're married, and I'm married, and...oh, my God." He looked stricken at her words, his hands falling to his sides. "You have to go. You have to go. _Now_."

Wordlessly, he started for the front door, but she stopped him, panicked. "The back door! You can't leave through the front!" she hissed, and he swiveled back around. She pointed toward the back door, her hand trembling, and he brushed past her, looking as dazed as she felt. He stopped, however, turning to face her.

"I—I'm sorry, Katniss. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry..." he muttered, his words dying out. She just buried her face in her hands, too scared to look at him. And then he was gone, the back door shutting quietly behind him. Breathing deeply, she gathered the rest of her wet clothes and carried them to the bedroom, but she pulled up short when she saw her reflection in the mirror. Her hair was knotted, sticking out in odd places, pulled from its braid. As she tried to smooth it down, she gasped, peering closer at the mirror. There were streaks of blood smeared on her neck, her chest, her chin. From his lip. Frantically, she spit into her hand and tried to rub it off, her hysteria rising.

Bath. She needed to take a bath. She filled up their tub quickly, discarding her shirt and her underwear before sliding down into the water, not even caring about the tepid temperature. Lathering the washcloth, she scrubbed herself furiously, as if she could wash herself of what she'd done. When her hand slipped between her thighs to clean herself, catching on the tender flesh there, she whimpered, and a hoarse cry escaped her throat.

Soon, she was sobbing into her hands, overcome with shame. She sank farther into the water while she cried, and there she stayed for hours, until the water grew cold, until her throat was raw.

What had she done?

What had she _done_?


	2. Part II

_**Warning:** Explicit sexual content, and probably a couple other trigger warnings, depending on your level of sensitivity._

* * *

Katniss thought she was going to burst at the seams every time Gale looked at her.

Did he know? Could he tell? Was her misdeed, her transgression, written all over her face as she felt it was? Surely, he had to sense something was wrong. She jumped every time he spoke, anticipating that whenever he opened his mouth, he was going to say it: "You fucked Peeta Mellark."

But he didn't. If he noticed she was acting weird, he didn't say anything. After he'd came home from his shift in the mines that evening—after she had dumped her filthy bathwater out and readjusted the couch cushions, after she had changed into completely different clothes and rebraided her hair seven times, after she had pressed a cold compress to her eyes to reduce the puffiness from her tears—he had grumbled something about being exhausted from the day's work. He was always tired; she knew the work was back-breaking, but neither of them really liked to talk about the mines, so he never expanded on the conversation. So they ate their dinner in relative silence, and for once, she was glad Gale didn't inquire about her day. He crashed after dinner and a shower, his exhaustion taking him to their bedroom for an early night.

Katniss didn't go to bed for a while; she sat on the tiny stoop outside the back door and stared at the cluster of trees behind their house. The night air was muggy, thick with moisture from the afternoon rain. It didn't remind her of what she had done earlier with Peeta; the truth was, she didn't need to be reminded. She hadn't stopped thinking about it.

What was wrong with her? What had she been thinking? That was the problem, she surmised; she _hadn't_ been thinking. She deliberately chose not to think. But she was making up for that lapse in judgment now; her mind raced with questions and doubts and self-contempt.

She was a horrible person. She was horrible; she was selfish and distrustful and manipulative. She hated herself. How could she do that to Gale? She'd already bound him to a fruitless, querulous marriage with her, and she couldn't even afford him the decency of remaining faithful. And Analise...Katniss felt her guilt sink like a lead ball to the pit of her stomach. She didn't even know Analise, a woman already broken by her inability to conceive—and here she was, selfishly willing to break another woman's marriage by one thoughtless action.

Burying her face in her hands, Katniss dug the heels of her palms into her eyes. But she didn't cry; there were no tears forthcoming, no miniscule amount of relief to be had from the suffocating shame she felt. She'd used it all up earlier in the bath, and now she had to face the cold, hard truth of what she'd done.

She couldn't tell Gale; she couldn't. He would be devastated. No matter how much they fought, how much he might resent her for her unrelenting resistance to children, he would be irreparably damaged by this betrayal, she was sure of it. It would be worse to tell him, she reasoned. So, why cause Gale any more anguish than necessary?

It wasn't going to happen again; she was going to cut Peeta out of her life for good. It was the only option. She would go back to her lonely, friendless life because it was what she deserved. Peeta would be just fine without her. She couldn't even begin to decipher what he was thinking and feeling about their ill-advised tryst, but he had plenty of friends, plenty of activities and obligations to fill his thoughts and time; forgetting about the Seam woman who'd seduced him into cheating on his wife shouldn't be too hard for him to do.

Would he tell his wife, though? Would he tell her what happened? Fresh terror settled like ice over her heart at the thought, and she hugged her knees to her chest tightly. He was a decent person; he might not be able to live with the guilt the way she could, was prepared to do. If Analise knew, would it eventually get back to Gale? It would, Katniss realized, because everyone would know. Everyone in this town knew everything; no one was allowed to wallow in their own fucking misery and self-hate in peace. God damn this stupid town. God _damn_ it, and god damn _her_ for being such a fool.

She was a stupid, stupid, _stupid_ woman.

* * *

Katniss didn't sleep much over the next few days. Every night, when Gale came home from his shift, she was sure that was it; she was sure he was going to confront her about sleeping with Peeta. The accusation never came, however. It would have been funny, really, because before, when he'd suspected she was having sex with him, he had been wrong, but now that she'd done it, he didn't seem to suspect a thing. It would have been funny, if she weren't making herself physically sick from all her anxiety.

She treaded carefully around town, around the Hob, wondering if anyone else knew, wondering if each day was going to be the day Analise tracked her down to shame her in front of the whole district for fucking her husband.

But no one paid her any mind; no one even really looked her way as she went about her business. She was too wound up, though. Trying to work in the Hob as if nothing had happened was nearly impossible—forget trying to do any of her regular trading around town. On Wednesday, her usual hunting day, she refused to get out of bed that morning. Instead, she'd told Gale she was sick, which wasn't hard to feign as her stomach had been knotted painfully for the past week, and she buried further under the covers, prepared to sleep the day away. She didn't want to hunt because she didn't want to have to pass through the meadow; she couldn't risk running into Peeta.

Wednesday was their day. He wouldn't show up, though. Right?

She couldn't think about it.

Another week went by, and Katniss knew she needed to hunt again. She couldn't hide forever. She slinked out into the woods, before the sun had even made an appearance. But once she'd retrieved her bow from its log, her motivation escaped her. Instead, she sat down on the log and just enjoyed the forest. The trees rose high above her, obscuring the dusky sky, as if the woods were going to swallow her up. She felt safe. She felt unjudged. She felt...redeemed. This was where she belonged.

She didn't want to leave. Nothing good awaited her back in District 12. So she started to walk. And she walked until she'd found the one place that could remind her of the person she used to be, when things were less complicated, when she was actually happy: her cabin in the woods, the lake where her father had taught her how to swim.

She really, really missed him today.

Approaching the lake, she carefully removed her clothes and folded them on the ground. Naked, she walked out into the water, submerging her head and resurfacing farther out in the lake. She swam for a while until she was exhausted, then she crawled onto a large rock to sunbathe for hours, bare to the world. Birds and squirrels chirped in the trees that surrounded the lake as if they were singing to her, and she almost, _almost_ forgot about her troubles.

But then she got hungry, and she knew she needed to head home. The berries she'd collected on the way to the lake had done little to satiate her hunger. Regretfully, she redressed and began her hike back to the Seam. She shot down a couple squirrels on her way and stuffed them in her bag. As she climbed through the gap in the fence, she threw her bag over her shoulder—and nearly screamed when she saw Peeta standing before her.

He held up his hands as if placating a terrified prey. And she knew she must look like one.

"Wait. _Wait_. Please. Just wait," he begged as if she were about to run. Perhaps if he weren't blocking her route home, she would. She could always escape back into the woods, she supposed, but she was frozen to her spot, utterly horror-struck by his appearance in the meadow.

"What are you...what are you doing here?" she asked when speech returned to her.

He stared at her quietly for a moment. He looked nearly as terrible as she did—his skin was paler than usual, his face was lined with exhaustion and worry, and his normally bright eyes were dull, punctuated by the dark circles under them. But even fatigue couldn't diminish his handsomeness, and she wasn't sure if the swoop in her stomach was fear or longing.

"It's Wednesday," he said simply, his voice strained. Then he looked away, running a hand through his hair. When he looked back at her, he gave her such a raw look that she felt herself actually tremble. "I thought you might be in the woods, so...I waited."

She blinked. She'd been out for hours. It had to be in the middle of the afternoon by now. "How long...how long have you been waiting?"

He swallowed, his eyes shifting around nervously. "A while, I guess. Forever, if I needed to," he said, stepping closer, but his movements were cautious. She didn't know if she wanted to take a step back—or take a step toward him. So she stayed still, her chest constricting with a quickened breath.

"Peeta—"

"Wait," he interrupted her, holding his hands up again. "Just...I'm sorry. I am so unbelievably sorry for what I did. I'm sorry. I don't know if there are enough words in the world to accurately convey how sorry I am, but I just...I needed to apologize to you."

Her eyes widened. "Why are you apologizing to _me_? I'm the one—I'm the one who...who started it. I kissed you, and..." She had wanted him. She had wanted him to do what he'd done; she had wanted to do what she'd done. If anything, she should apologize to him. He'd just been hit by his wife, who'd accused him of having an affair, and then she had sex with him. Jesus, what was wrong with her?

But he shook his head. "I think...I think I've been pushing it, pushing you. I-I think about you. I've _been _thinking about you—I'm sorry. I've tried not to, but...I guess I haven't really tried hard enough," he rambled, his eyes focusing on the fence behind her. "I wanted you, and I think I projected that onto you, and, just...I escalated things between us, and they got out of hand."

Her eyes were riveted to him, only one part of his speech reverberating in her mind: _I wanted you._ She understood, of course, that in the moment, he had wanted her, but the way he said it, he made it sound like it was something beyond just that day, that singular action. "You wanted me?" she repeated dumbly. He stared at her.

"Yes."

She thought about what Gale had said a while ago, about Peeta staring at her in school. Slowly, she set her game bag on the ground. "How...long have you wanted me?"

He blinked rapidly, his lips parting in disbelief. "How _long?_ I—a long time, Katniss."

Tugging the end of her braid, she chewed on her lip. "Since...we were teenagers?" she asked.

Something akin to terror flashed in his eyes. "Longer, probably," he whispered. Her heart was racing, and her palms started to sweat.

"Is that why you stared at me in school?" He nodded cautiously. "And not because of the—bread?" she asked, timid.

He furrowed his eyebrows. "The bread...I watched you because I wanted to make sure you were okay. But I watched you before, and I watched you after. Because I liked you."

Her breath hitched. "Because you liked me," she repeated, and he pursed his lips. "_Like_ me?" she rephrased, a questioning lilt to her voice, and his tongue darted out to wet his lips.

"Yes," he finally answered after a beat, his voice barely above a whisper, and he dropped his eyes to look at the ground. His cheeks were red; her own face felt like it was on fire. She felt like a teenager all over again. A confusing rush of embarrassment and giddiness and anger swelled inside her.

"Peeta." Her voice was strangled as she tried to choke down all her emotions. "Why didn't you ever—_tell_ me? Why didn't you ever just _say_ something to me?"

He huffed, running his hands through his hair again. "I don't know! I don't know, okay? I was...I was scared, I guess. I was a coward. What could I even talk to you about?" He laughed then, a strange, nervous bark of laughter. "You were so...you were so much _more_, and how could I compare? And then I thought you were with Gale, and then you _were_ with Gale, and what did it matter at that point? What could I do at that point, Katniss?"

"You could have talked to me! Anything, even a hello would have gone a long way to—to—"

"Talk to you? I didn't even _register_ to you!"

She pulled up short, blinking furiously. "Is that what you think? That I didn't notice you?" she asked, and he gave her an exasperated look. "I noticed you. A lot."

He swallowed, his eyes wide with alarm. "You...But you—you were with Gale. And I respected that. I moved on—I tried to move on. I couldn't—I didn't want to spend the rest of my life pining after you. You seemed...you seemed happy. And you married Gale. You—"

"I was waiting for you!" she yelled, but as soon as the words left her mouth, she wished she could cram them back in. His mouth dropped open, his entire face registering shock, and she clamped her hands over her own mouth in horror.

They were silent for a tense moment until Peeta broke it. "You were...you were—"

But she was already shaking her head, moving to dart around him, to run from her confession. He moved faster than her, however, his body colliding with hers as he intercepted her escape route; she ricocheted off his chest, but his hands shot up to lock around her arms, holding her in place. "Wait! Wait! Please, don't run, _please_!" he cried, and she struggled in his grasp, but he just pulled her closer, tighter. "Just stop, okay? Just—just wait a minute, please."

She covered her whole face with her hands, trying to block him out, trying to block out what she had said, but when her body stilled, he wrapped his arms around her. Her head rested against his chest. His breathing was ragged, and she could feel his heart under her hands. It synced with the fast beat of her own heart. "Katniss...what do you mean, you were waiting for me?"

She hadn't realized it until she'd said it. How was she supposed to explain it to him? She didn't understand it herself. She had been close to understanding it years ago, the day she'd found out Peeta was getting married, but it had seemed like an exercise in futility by that point, to even think about it, to consider the possibility that she had feelings for Peeta. How could she have feelings for him when they had never interacted beyond a contemptible exchange of food? It was an absurd notion, so she had quashed the feelings and threw herself into a marriage with Gale because—because it was expected of her. She was supposed to be with a man from the Seam, not the boy with the bread, not a man from the Merchant class. It had been an impulsive decision, one she'd made in a moment of weakness, so she wouldn't have to face the fact that she'd been foolishly longing for a man she couldn't have.

Shaking her head, she inhaled shakily. His familiar scent filled her nose, making her lightheaded. "What does it matter, Peeta?"

"It matters, damn it," he said harshly, his mouth moving against the top of her head. His nose was buried in her hair, and she heard him inhale, his chest expanding under her hands. "It matters...please..."

His proximity, his scent, his warmth—it was all too much, disarming her. Memories of their desperate coupling assaulted her mind, how he felt in her hand, inside her, moving above her, his weight pinning her down, his mouth worshipping her breasts, his fingers making her beg. Her body betrayed her, flushing with want, and she squeezed her eyes shut, curling her fingers into his shirt. "I don't...I don't know," she said, her voice catching. "I didn't understand at the time, but...you were, you were always there. Ever since the bread, I just—I've thought about you. I noticed you. You were different, I guess. And that day at the bakery, the day you got married...I realized...I realized...I had lost you. I never had you. You were not mine. So I finally—I agreed to marry Gale."

Her eyes watered at the realization, the words she had never let herself say out loud, the words she had hardly let herself think. She had only married Gale because she couldn't have Peeta.

She couldn't feel any worse about herself than she did in that moment.

He swallowed audibly, his hand snaking up her back to palm the back of her head. "I—I didn't...fuck, I didn't know. I didn't fucking know," he murmured, his voice trembling. "God, if I'd had any idea, I never would have...I never would have..."

"Don't say it," she pleaded, tugging on his shirt. "Please, don't fucking say it." She didn't think she could bear it.

Peeta pulled back slightly, forcing her head up so he could look at her face. His blue eyes were swimming. "I have to, I have to say it, Katniss. I love my wife, but you—it's you. It's always been you." She closed her eyes again tightly, her heart in her throat, and he cradled her face between his hands. "If I had known how you felt, I would have been with you. I love you." Her heart stopped then, and her eyes snapped open. "I love you," he repeated earnestly, his eyebrows pinched together as he looked at her. "I've always loved you."

How could he love her? She wasn't sure how anyone could at this point, but Peeta especially. She just stared at him, her mouth hanging open, her heart now beating painfully in her chest.

His lip curled in contempt, his eyes drifting to gaze at the ground. "I know. I'm a horrible fucking person. I married a woman knowing I was in love with someone else. I'm terrible. I've hated myself for it, but I thought...I thought the feeling would lessen over time...but...And now, I've betrayed my wife. I just—this isn't me. I didn't think I was this kind of person...but here I am..." He shook his head, falling silent.

She felt dazed, not sure how to respond. If he was a horrible person, then what was she? Scum. She was fucking scum. She found herself leaning into him, her hands sliding around to his back, and she tucked her head under his chin. His arms secured her there, and she inhaled deeply, her nose brushing the skin left exposed by the collar of his shirt. He was here. And so was she. If he was horrible...then, maybe, they could be horrible together. He was the only one who understood what she was feeling at this point. They had done this together; they had dirtied each other.

What was a little more dirt between friends?

Katniss pressed chaste kisses along his neck, trailing her mouth up to his jaw; his beard tickled her lips, and she could feel his pulse thrumming. Stretching up on her tiptoes, she placed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, and that's where her lips lingered as she waited for him to react—to do something, to either kiss her or push her away, anything.

He hesitated, and the moment passed like an eternity, until he finally rotated his head, just enough to touch his lips to hers. That was all the permission she needed; she crushed her chest to his, prying his mouth open with her tongue. One of his hands cupped her face to hold her in place while he kissed her wetly, and their tongues slid against each other in a desperate quest. His fingers dug into her back, and she slipped her hands under his shirt to feel his hot skin, the tensing muscles in his back. He grunted into her mouth when her jagged nails scraped his skin, his teeth biting down on her bottom lip. She gasped before covering his open mouth with hers, pulling him closer, trying to climb up him, trying to crawl into his skin. Was it possible to want someone this much? She couldn't remember if the desire had ever been this demanding, this consuming before.

Suddenly remembering where they were, she jerked away from him, a string of spittle snapping between their mouths and dribbling down her chin. He stared at her with glassy eyes, his lips swollen and red. There was fear in his eyes, too, but she realized it wasn't fear of what they were doing—it was fear that she was going to stop.

Untangling her arms from around him, she fisted his shirt and pulled him with her as she stepped back toward the fence. "Come with me," she whispered, climbing under the fence into the forest, and she helped him through the gap. She grabbed his hand and guided him through the trees until they were concealed by the woods, then she backed him up against a particularly large tree, pinning him with her body. His hands settled on her hips, and she stretched her torso along his, nuzzling her face in the crook of his neck. There, she placed wet kisses; she refrained from sucking on the delicate flesh, knowing she shouldn't risk leaving any marks, but she dragged her teeth, nipping at his collarbone.

"Katniss," he murmured roughly. Emboldened, she tugged open his pants and slipped her hands inside the parted fly, finding his stiffening cock under his boxers. He moaned quietly as she stroked him until he was hard and throbbing in her hands, then she pushed his pants and boxers down to free his cock, sliding down his body to kneel before him. She glanced up at him through her eyelashes as he made a strangled noise in the back of his throat. His face was slack with disbelief as he stared down at her. "Katniss," he said again, a slight whine straining his voice this time.

Her gaze settled on his cock. It was thick and glorious, and her mouth salivated in anticipation. Bracing herself on his thighs, she licked the length of his erection a few times; he gasped at the first touch of her tongue, dissolving into a series of groans as she continued. Swirling her tongue around the head, she could taste the come that dotted the tip. She pulled back slightly to lick her lips. Then she took him into her mouth, sliding him along her tongue until she couldn't take any more in; she stopped before he hit the back of her throat, wrapping her hand around the base of his cock.

Peeta moaned above her, his hands grasping the sides of her head, and he curled his fingers into her hair. But he let her set the pace, and she bobbed her head up and down his length, sucking on his hot flesh. "Katniss..._fuck_," he hissed, his head falling back against the tree. Katniss moved her hand in tandem with her mouth, the flat of her tongue bathing the underside of his cock. She didn't know that she was particularly good at giving head, but the way his hips thrust into her face gave her confidence; she sucked harder, and he all but growled.

Before he came, he panted out a warning. She held him in her mouth as his cock pulsed, spurting semen down her throat. Gagging slightly, she swallowed what she could and pulled her head back, spitting out what she couldn't. With a cough, she clumsily wiped her mouth with the back of her hand before glancing at his face. He was watching her intently, his breathing heavy.

"Sorry," she muttered, embarrassed. Dropping her gaze, she sat back on her haunches and crushed a dead leaf in her hand. Peeta tucked himself back in and zipped his pants up, then he slid down the tree to sit on the ground before her. He touched her chin, turning her face to look at him. His brow was knitted in concern and confusion, but his cheeks were still flushed.

"You don't—you don't have to apologize to me," he said, his fingers trailing along her jaw line. His eyes were troubled, though. "Why...?"

That was the question, wasn't it? Why? Why? _Why_?

"I don't know, Peeta," she said honestly, meeting his gaze. She covered the hand on her face with her own and squeezed his fingers. She licked her lips, catching a missed drop of his semen at the corner of her mouth. It tasted like him; she didn't know why she thought that exactly, but it did.

He pulled her between his legs, and then he was kissing her again, a needy, heated kiss. When he broke away, she slumped against his chest, but he tilted her head back, his large hands framing her face. "Katniss, if this—if this is going to stop, it's going to have to be you, okay? You're gonna have to stop this because I—I don't think I can," he implored, his plaintive eyes boring into hers.

The problem was, she didn't think she could either.

* * *

She had been right; she couldn't.

As Peeta moved between her legs, she tried to muffle her moans by biting into her hand, though she wasn't sure it mattered. They were in the meadow, where she had rarely if ever seen anyone else venture, and they had moved a ways farther from where they used to meet, the tall grass and flowers surrounding them helping to conceal their frenzied movements. Her pants had been pushed down to her ankles, and his were around his hips, open just enough to free his cock, which he was driving into her mercilessly. Her shirt was pushed up as well, and he had wrenched her bra cup out of the way so he could lavish her left breast with his tongue and his teeth.

On one particular stroke of her clit with his fingers, she yelped loudly, her attempt at relative silence forgotten. He hastily covered her lips with his, licking his way into her mouth. He swallowed her moans as she frantically bucked her hips in time with his thrusts, forcing his hand to bear down harder between her thighs. She felt the momentum of her orgasm barreling through her, and she couldn't stand it any longer—she wrenched her mouth from his to dip her head back and cry out as she came.

When he finished, he rested his head on her chest as he caught his breath. Then, groaning, he crawled out from between her legs and pulled her pants back up for her, smoothing her shirt down. She felt boneless, relishing in the euphoria of her orgasm, trying not to think about anything other than the satiation of her body. Peeta flopped down on his back beside her, his breathing labored, and she watched as he removed the condom and dumped the contents on the ground, stuffing it back into its pouch. His arms dropped to the ground after he'd buttoned his pants up, and he let out a huff, staring up at the sky.

"Fuck," he muttered, and she sighed, turning her gaze to the sky.

"Fuck," she agreed. She wasn't sure why she seemed to lose all rational thought in his presence, why, despite knowing how much she was betraying Gale, despite knowing how wrong it was, she couldn't stop. All she knew was that, at least in that moment, it felt _right_, like being with Peeta was what she was meant to do, that's where she was supposed to be.

Today was the first time they'd had sex since the fateful afternoon in her house. They had tried to resist, meeting in the meadow just to talk, then, just to kiss, then, just to touch, to reduce each other to quivering messes with their hands, as if somehow that wrong was less egregious—but ultimately, they were just delaying the inevitable. They both knew where it was heading; they both knew they wanted more (why else had he continued to carry the condom?). So, when his hand had danced teasingly between her legs, under her panties, she realized what she wanted was his cock filling her up, not his fingers, so she pulled him on top of her and freed him of his trousers. Peeta quickly got the hint.

They were both quiet for a moment, and a cool breeze rustled her hair, cooling her face. She closed her eyes. It was starting to get colder these days. School was going to start again soon, and then she wouldn't see Peeta as much—if at all. With him teaching on the weekdays, they would have no time for secret rendezvous in the meadow.

They could stop then, she told herself, cut all ties. She just wanted a little more time with him until then, just another taste of the happiness she found, writhing underneath him, before she had to let him go again. Then she could go back to her pitiful life with a man she couldn't seem to make happy.

Fingers smoothed over her brow, and she opened her eyes to find Peeta watching her. He had rolled onto his side, and he was caressing her forehead, her cheek. She couldn't help herself; she smiled. The corner of his mouth curled up, though his eyes were a cloudy blue. He shifted closer to press a kiss to her temple, but he rested his forehead on hers, his mouth brushing her ear. She could feel his warm breath, and it made her shiver.

"I know I shouldn't say this," he started, his voice low, "but what I wouldn't give to be able to strip you naked and worship your body the way you deserve so you can scream as loud as you want."

No, he shouldn't say that. But she loved to hear it all the same. Biting her lip, she curled against his chest and tucked her head under his chin. "Me too," she whispered, and he wrapped his arm around her to hold her close.

* * *

It was getting easier to act normal around Gale, though looking him in the eye was still difficult; she was sure he could see the guilt in her eyes. But he didn't seem to notice, and, she thought, maybe she could do this; maybe this wouldn't be too hard.

That was, until he tried to initiate sex with her one night, after they had crawled into bed to go to sleep. His hand slipped under her night shirt, trailing over her hip and her stomach, and she was paralyzed. "I miss you," he murmured in the dark, his fingers skimming the swell of her breast. "Do you think you're up for it?"

And what could she do but say yes? She rolled onto her back, and he kissed her. She kept her eyes shut as he pumped away on top of her, too afraid to look at his face, too afraid of what he might see in her eyes, and before he finished, he brought her to completion with a shuddering orgasm using his hand. She bit her lip to suppress her moan, and she stared breathlessly at the ceiling as he settled down in the bed beside her.

"I need to clean up," she told him hollowly, slipping out of the bed and tiptoeing into the bathroom. When she shut the door behind her, she turned on the sink and collapsed on top of the toilet, covering her mouth before a bark of laughter could escape. She laughed into her hands until she was sobbing, tears streaming down her cheeks. She didn't know what was wrong with her.

After she had calmed down and washed her face, she quietly snuck back into bed. Gale was already fast asleep.

* * *

Katniss sat at the kitchen table, chewing her thumbnail anxiously as she watched the clock. A glass of water sat on the table, clutched in the death grip of her hand. She was taking a sip when a curt knock sounded on the backdoor, causing her to jump and spill water down her chin. She glanced at the clock again as she wiped her face off; he was right on time.

Crossing to the backdoor, she swung it open, and her stomach swooped at the sight of him. Peeta's blonde hair was hidden from the sunlight by a cap, and he smiled warmly at her. She pulled him inside and quickly shut the door. "Did anyone see you?" she blurted, wringing her hands. He gave her a look.

"I don't know, but I tried to be careful," he said, taking his cap off and ruffling his hair. "If anyone saw me, they didn't say anything." Frowning, she nodded and distractedly tugged on her braid; she just hoped everyone else was too busy working to notice a Merchant visiting the Seam. He glanced around her house, running a hand through his curls—a nervous habit of his, she had noticed. Her own heart was fluttering. It was risky to bring him to her house again (that was only one word from a list of many she had to describe her audacity), but she couldn't stop thinking about what he'd said in the meadow the last time. She wanted to see him naked and in all his glory; she wanted him every which way, not just a frantic fuck in the grass, and she wanted to scream his name without fear of being heard.

Worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, she motioned for him to follow her into the living room. "Do you want anything to drink or eat?" she asked over her shoulder.

"Just you."

His quiet words pulled her up short, and she whirled around to face him. There was a hungry glint in his eyes, and an electrical current prickled at the base of her skull. "Take your clothes off," he demanded in a gravelly voice, and she obliged without hesitation. As she pulled off her shirt, he removed his as well, and he groaned in appreciation when his eyes landed on her bare breasts. He stopped to watch her slide her pants down, and she kicked them off her feet. "Those, too," he nodded at her underwear, and she shimmied out of them, ducking her head shyly as she stood naked before him. He closed the distance between them in one step, and her eyes lingered on the bulge in his pants before he tipped her head up. "You are exquisite," he murmured, his large hands trailing down her neck, over her shoulders. When his callused palms caught on her pebbled nipples, she inhaled sharply, closing her eyes as they continued their path down her hips, sliding around her back to grasp her bottom.

"I have waited 15 years, _at least_, to taste you," he whispered in her ear, and she trembled. He dipped a hand between her thighs, and she gasped as his fingers slid through the wetness pooling there. "I think you're ready," he mused playfully, pulling his hand away and sucking his fingers into his mouth. When he moaned in approval, she thought she might come right then. "I want you on the couch."

She moved quickly, perching on the edge of the sofa, and he knelt down in front of her. Her legs quivered from her nerves as he pushed them apart, opening her to him, but he leaned up to kiss her. His tongue probed her mouth, and she grabbed onto his shoulders, her hands sliding down over his shoulder blades; he was always so hot to the touch. When he broke the kiss, his face hovered so close to hers, their noses bumped together. "Take out your braid?" he asked, and at her confused look, he smiled boyishly. "Please?"

She could deny him nothing—that was the problem, wasn't it?—so she unwrapped the elastic band and unplaited her hair. His hand slid into her tresses, his fingers briefly massaging her scalp before combing out her long, dark hair. It fanned over her breasts, and he kissed her again, deeply, to show his gratitude. His mouth moved down to her nipples where he further showed his gratitude, sucking them into his mouth.

It wasn't until he had her writhing and begging for his attention elsewhere did he finally lower his face to her center. At the first flick of his tongue, she arched off the couch, but he pinned her thighs open before they could snap closed. His mouth was unforgiving as his tongue slid between her folds, thrusting inside her, then circling the bundle of nerves at the apex. Peeta moaned against her, the vibrations making her gasp, and when he nipped gently with his teeth, she practically shrieked. Her thighs clamped around his head, and she moaned at the feel of his beard tickling the delicate skin of her inner thighs. It was better than she had imagined.

He pushed her thighs open again to plunge his fingers inside her while he sucked on her clit, and her hands fisted in his hair, tugging him closer. She didn't even recognize the guttural, incoherent sounds she was making, but she didn't care. She was desperate for her release, and only his tongue could bring it to her. When she felt the familiar tingle surging at the juncture of her thighs, she pressed his face closer; he didn't seem to mind, opening his mouth wider over her, and as she came with a cry of his name, he lapped at her greedily.

She barely had time to recover before he was kissing her, his tongue sliding against hers so she could taste herself there. "Bend over, on your knees," he said, his voice husky, and she scrambled to get into position as he removed his pants and his boxers. She braced herself on her forearms while he put the condom on, trembling as he situated himself behind her. He reached up to wrap her hair around his hand momentarily, tugging her head back, and she moaned at the sensation. Letting her hair go, he pushed into her gradually, and they both groaned in relief. But that was as slow as he was going to go; he shifted his hips back, then immediately began thrusting into her, hard and fast. The slapping of their skin together punctuated the sound of her moans, and he gripped her hips tightly, jerking them back to connect with his on every thrust. Katniss could feel the build-up to another orgasm as her body still reeled from her last, and she keened into the cushions, her fingers clawing at the couch.

"Peeta, I—I..." she broke off into a groan, and when his fingers connected with her clit, her body seized up; she shouted into the cushion as she convulsed around him, and he moaned. His arms held her hips up so he could continue to thrust into her, but the rest of her body sagged to the couch, her arms too weak to prop herself up any longer.

"Katniss," he grunted, one of his hands splaying over the small of her back. "I'm gonna—ah—gonna come..." She clenched his cock inside her in response, and he groaned loudly, coming after a few more hard thrusts. His furious movements stilled as he pulsed inside her, but he gasped suddenly, jerking out of her. "Oh, shit."

Confused, Katniss pushed herself up on her hands and looked at him over her shoulder. "What?"

His wide eyes were full of alarm when he looked at her. "I, uh—the condom broke."

She blinked as she stared at him, struggling through her haze to comprehend what he'd just said. That was when she saw the ripped condom on his cock, and she gasped, scurrying off the couch to stand up. As she moved, she could feel his semen running down her thighs. "Shit."

Neither of them moved for a moment, until he finally went to pull off the ruined condom. She darted out of the living room down the hall, and he called after her. "Just give me a minute!" she yelled, barricading herself in the bathroom. Her heart beat wildly, and her reflection looked flushed and crazy-eyed. Grabbing a washcloth, she wet it and hastily cleaned herself off, scrubbing furiously between her thighs, though she knew it didn't make a difference. She cursed loudly, rinsing the washcloth off, then she braced her hands on the counter as she thought. This wasn't the first time this had happened to her; when they had first started having sex, she and Gale had broken a couple condoms in the process of trying to figure out what size fit him best. She must have given Peeta the wrong size all those weeks ago in the Hob.

She hadn't gotten pregnant before, though; she would be fine. She could get some wild carrot seeds from her mother, as she had done in the past. It was going to be fine, she reassured herself because what else could she do?

After splashing her face with cold water, she dried off on a towel and quietly slipped out of the bathroom. She grabbed some other clothes to put on, and when she walked back into the living room, Peeta was already dressed and sitting on the couch, his head in his hands. He looked up when she crossed to the front of the couch, sitting down beside him. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize, Katniss. If I had realized, I would have stopped—" he fretted, but she touched his arm to stop him.

"It's okay," she said shakily. "I...It's happened before. I can take something. We'll be fine." His face was still pinched with concern, so she smiled, her chin quivering only slightly, and she tried to smooth out the wrinkles in his forehead.

"Okay," he whispered, catching her hand to squeeze it. When he smiled at her, she leaned forward to kiss him. She didn't want the day to be ruined; they had so little time left together.

"Let's go to the meadow for a little bit," she suggested, and he nodded. After one more kiss, she waited for a few minutes after he'd left through the back door to leave through the front.

She would go to her mother's on her way back from the meadow, before Gale got home.

* * *

It was the moment she stopped anticipating it that it finally happened.

She was fashioning some arrows on the living room floor, her materials spread out around her, and Gale was skinning a couple squirrels in the kitchen. There was a knock on the front door, and Katniss looked up, surprised.

"Can you get that?" Gale called from the kitchen. "My hands are dirty."

"Sure," she said, climbing to her feet. She couldn't imagine who would be visiting them at this hour, but maybe it was one of Gale's coalminer friends. Opening the front door, she was not prepared for who she saw.

Analise.

Katniss' heart leapt into her throat as she stared at the person on their front step. Although the woman wore a scarf to conceal her blonde locks, Katniss could recognize that face anywhere; it haunted her dreams most nights. Analise glowered at her, her blue eyes flashing. "I knew it was you," she sneered, and Katniss blinked, her mouth going dry.

"Wh-what?" she squeaked, her grip tightening on the door knob.

Analise pulled something out of her pocket—a piece of paper—and she unfolded it, shoving it into Katniss' chest. Shaking, Katniss grabbed it to look at it. Her stomach dropped to her feet. It was the drawing Peeta had sketched of her in the meadow. "You're a filthy fucking whore, you know that, right?" Analise hissed at her, and Katniss blanched.

She sensed Gale behind her before he even spoke. "What's going on?" he asked, a hint of an edge to his voice, and Analise's glare shifted to him.

"I'd appreciate it if you kept your Seam slut away from my husband from now on," she snapped before she spun around and stomped away into the night.

Katniss was too afraid to turn around. Gale snatched the drawing from her hands, and when she finally looked at him, the look in his eyes was murderous.

Oh, no. Oh, no.

"I fucking knew it," he muttered, crushing the paper in his fist, and she hastily shut the door.

"Gale..."

"So, you are fucking him," he accused. She couldn't answer him, but her silence was confirmation enough. His jaw clenched and unclenched. "Fucking the baker's son. I can't believe you, and then you _lied_ to me about it—"

"I didn't!" she interjected. "I mean, I-I wasn't, then." She cringed, and his lip curled.

"So—what? You figured you'd just go ahead and fuck him then? Figured you might as well because I already accused you of it?"

"N-no, it wasn't like that," she said, her voice trembling, and his nostrils flared.

"No? Then tell me what it was like," he demanded, but when she didn't respond, he seized her wrist, yanking her toward him. "Tell me, damn it! How long have you been fucking him?" he yelled.

Katniss flinched, tears welling in her eyes. "Just—just a month, or so, I guess," she whispered fearfully, not sure if he was going to hit her. He'd never been violent with her in the past—but then again, she'd never cheated on him before.

"Oh, _just_ a month or so, huh?" he sneered, throwing her arm aside, and she rubbed her wrist. He turned away from her, his hands tugging at his hair.

"Gale," she tried. "I'm sorry—"

He punched the wall then, making her jump in shock. He punched it again before whirling back to look at her. "I can't believe you! You cheat on me with some townie asshole, and you're _sorry_?"

"I am!" she cried, but he laughed, a harsh, cruel kind of laugh.

"Not as sorry as you're both gonna be," he hissed, pushing around her to fling the door open. Her eyes widened as she realized what he was going to do.

"Gale, please don't!" she shrieked after him as he bounded down the front steps. "It's my fault! I'm the one you're mad at!"

He stopped, hesitating a few feet from their front porch before he bolted back inside. "Tell me where he lives," he demanded, and she realized he didn't know. She shook her head desperately. "Tell me, god damn it!"

"No! If you're gonna yell at someone, then yell at me!" she cried.

"You want me to yell at you? Fine!" He slammed the door shut and advanced on her, and she backed up. "You're a lying, selfish, miserable bitch_, _and you only care about yourself and what _you_ want!" She winced, biting down on her lip, hard, as tears slipped down her cheeks. He snorted derisively, glaring at her. "Do you even know how many opportunities I had to sleep with someone else? Do you even know how many women throw themselves at me? But you know what I didn't do? I didn't fuck them behind your back!"

She was sure that was true; Gale was a desirable partner, at least in the Seam. She didn't have to wonder why he didn't take advantage of those opportunities—because he was a decent person.

"I'm sorry, Gale, I'm so sorry," she whimpered, stepping toward him, but he jerked away from her.

"Get out."

Her eyes widened. "What? Gale—"

"Get the fuck out of my house!" he yelled. She shrank back, the heat of his glare knocking the air from her lungs, and then she fled into the night. She heard the door slam behind her as she ran. She didn't even realize where she was heading until she found herself at her mother's house. The door was locked, so she knocked frantically. When her mother answered the door, Katniss burst into tears.

"Katniss, what's wrong?" she asked, leading her inside, and Katniss swiped at her tears.

"G-Gale and I had a fight. Can I stay here?" she stammered, and her mother's face softened as she pulled her into a hug.

"Of course," she murmured, and she just stroked her hair as Katniss cried on her shoulder.

* * *

Katniss stayed at her mother's house for a while. Gale refused to talk to her when she would come back to their house, brushing past her with a tight "I can't look at you right now" on his way out the door to the Hob. Defeated, she packed up some of her clothes and a few of her personal items and took it back to her mother's. She didn't tell her mother what they were fighting about—she was too ashamed—and her mother didn't push for a reason; she rarely pried in her daughter's business, probably because of their strained relationship when Katniss was a teenager.

"It's a bad one," was all she told her. "I really hurt him this time, mom."

Katniss didn't see Peeta while she was at her mother's; she had no idea what had happened between him and Analise, if he knew his wife had confronted her, if he had even sought her out to talk or knew where she was at this point. School started up again while she was at her mother's, so she knew he was busy again. She couldn't deny that it hurt, though; she had anticipated ending their affair at the end of summer, but she had wanted at least one last day with him, a chance to say goodbye.

Maybe it was for the best this way. She spent a couple days in hiding before she forced herself to set up her booth in the Hob again. This time, the patrons threw her knowing glances, whispering with each other as they passed her. She gritted her teeth and tried to hold her head up. At least, Sae and Ripper didn't let on that they knew what had happened. Katniss also hunted, but she didn't trade in town, not yet.

Not once on her hunting trips did she encounter Peeta in the meadow.

The stress of the situation was still making her sick. She felt nauseated most days, her stomach tight with anxiety. Often, she suffered a pounding headache, which made trying to do her business in the Hob unpleasant for her and, she was sure, for others. She tried to refrain from snapping at patrons who threw her nasty looks, but she didn't hesitate to glare back at them.

She had never claimed to be a nice person. Now, everyone else knew it. Well, good.

Getting out of bed was hard most days. All she really wanted to do was sleep and shut out the rest of the world, but she didn't want to worry her mother any more than necessary; she didn't want to have to admit to her out loud what she'd done, though she imagined the gossip had to have reached her by now, but if her mother knew, she didn't let on.

It wasn't until Katniss was hunched over the toilet, puking up her lunch, did it cross her mind that something else might be making her sick. She had been skinning a rabbit at her mother's kitchen table when the smell made her stomach roil—an unprecedented development in her 19 years of hunting.

As she rinsed her mouth out in the bathroom sink, she stared at her pasty, haggard reflection and froze. She tried to recall her last period; she had bled some a few weeks ago, a couple days after she'd taken the wild carrot seeds. It hadn't lasted long at all, but she'd assumed she was menstruating and the seeds had done their job.

But maybe they hadn't, after all.

Shit.

She found her mother in the living room restitching a seam in a ratty shirt. "Mom," she said, her voice strained. Her mother looked up, her brow creased. "I—I think I, I think I might be pregnant." The word tasted awful in her mouth.

Her mother's eyes widened, and she carefully set her shirt down. "Are you sure?"

"I don't know. I haven't been feeling well, but I just thought...I just threw up. For no reason. I don't think the seeds worked."

Her mother stood up and crossed to a hutch in the living room where she stored her medical supplies. She rifled through a drawer and pulled out an immunoassay test strip, then she moved into the kitchen and grabbed a glass, holding it out to her daughter. "Go into the bathroom and get me a urine sample."

After she'd returned the cup to her mother, who stuck the test strip into the urine, Katniss paced the kitchen until her mother forced her to sit down in a chair at the table. She was too scared to watch the strip, so she buried her face in her folded arms on the table. All she could hear was her quick, heavy breathing as her mother slowly stroked her head.

"Katniss," her mother said quietly a few minutes later, and Katniss tensed. "It's positive."

Her agonized moan was muffled by her arms, and she squeezed her eyes tightly. But she jerked her head up, looking at her mother wildly. "I can't—I can't be. You have to give me something else."

Her mother sighed, settling down in a chair beside her. "Katniss, honey, are you sure you want to do this? I know you and Gale are going through a rough patch right now, but maybe...maybe this is a good thing."

Katniss just stared at her mother, a new wave of terror gripping her heart. She had to tell her. "Mom...it's not Gale's."

Her mother blinked, the corners of her mouth turning down slightly. "What?"

Katniss tried to swallow the cotton ball that had sprouted in her mouth. "It's not...his. I slept with someone else." Tears sprang to her eyes before the words even left her mouth.

Her mother's lips parted in shock, and she didn't speak for a moment. "Oh...oh, dear," she murmured, and Katniss looked away, furiously blinking against her tears, but a couple slipped down her cheeks, anyway. Her mother sighed again and covered her daughter's hand with her own, squeezing gently. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No. I don't know," Katniss muttered, swiping at her tears angrily. Then she sighed. "Gale and I..." It wasn't his fault, she had to tell herself. He hadn't made her do anything. "I just haven't been happy for a while, mom. We fight all the time, and I can't—_won't_—give him what he wants. And I just—instead of doing the decent thing and ending things with him, I...I had sex with someone else."

Her mother furrowed her brow. "Just once? Sometimes, people make mistakes—"

"No," Katniss interrupted. "Many times. I—I had an affair with another man. For a month...longer, really." Because even though they hadn't had sex right away, she realized now what they'd been doing all those weeks prior to.

Her mother opened and closed her mouth a few times. "Who—can I ask who it was with?"

Katniss shifted uncomfortably, chewing on her lip. "Peeta Mellark," she mumbled, and her mother's eyes widened.

"Peeta Mellark?" she repeated, and Katniss nodded, dropping her gaze to the table.

Her mother was silent for a while, too long, and Katniss couldn't take it anymore. "I know, I'm a horrible person! You don't have to say it!" she bemoaned, a new wave of tears welling in her eyes.

"No, you're not—"

"Yes, I am! Who does that? What kind of person does that to her husband?"

Her mother sighed again, squeezing her daughter's hand. "Katniss...did I ever tell you how your father and I got together?" she asked, her voice tight, and Katniss looked at her, sniffling.

"You said that you heard him singing in town one day and that he had the most beautiful voice you'd ever heard."

She smiled wistfully. "He did, though I think you could've given him a run for his money." Katniss rolled her eyes, but her mother continued, "Did I ever tell you that I was dating someone else at the time I met your father?"

Katniss narrowed her eyes. "No..."

Her mother leaned back in her chair. "I was. We were—well, we weren't engaged, but it was pretty serious. Everyone thought we were going to get married, and I did, too, honestly. I loved him, but...when I met your father, it was different—it was fire. I fell in love with him so hard and so fast. It was scary, and—well, I wasn't married yet, but I didn't break it off with my boyfriend right away. I...I did some things that I regret, and I know I hurt him when I finally told him about your father." Her mother's face looked pained, and she had a faraway look in her eyes. She shook her head. "I'm not sure how he ever managed to forgive me for it, but somehow he did. It took me a lot longer to forgive myself. He never said a word against me, though, in all this time, even when everyone else I knew turned their backs on me."

Katniss stared at her mother, mystified. "Who was he?"

Her mother pursed her lips, which spread into a sad smile. "Faren Mellark."

Katniss gaped at her. "_What?_ Peeta's _father_?" Her mother nodded. "Wha—how come you never told me this?"

Her mother sighed, fidgeting with her hands in her lap. "I didn't think you needed to know. I had no idea it would ever be relevant," she replied quietly, and Katniss slumped in her chair as she digested the information. Her mother and Peeta's father used to...and now she and Peeta...She didn't know what to think, what to say.

Her mother stood up then, crossing to the hutch to grab more supplies. "The point I was trying to make, Katniss, is that—sometimes, things happen. Things you're not prepared for, things you might not be equipped to deal with. And sometimes, you hurt people with your thoughtless actions, even if you don't mean to." Crossing back to the kitchen, her mother set down two vials of dried herbs and a mortar and pestle.

Sitting in the chair across from her daughter, she continued, "What you did was horrible, but I still don't think you're a horrible person. You hurt Gale, and you feel bad about that—good, don't forget that feeling. Learn from it. If you can remember this, you'll do better at dealing with others' feelings in the future. I didn't avoid hurting Faren altogether, but I did end things between us before someone could get _really_ hurt."

Her mother reached out to wipe away some of her daughter's tears when they started to fall harder. Katniss tremulously flashed her a bitter smile. "Guess you handled it better than I did."

Her mother's face knotted in consternation. "I grew up differently, I think. I'm sorry that...failed you, after your father died. I'm sorry if what happened to me changed the way you connect with other people, how you love. I wish I could go back and change what happened," she said sadly, and Katniss looked away in discomfort. "There's a lot of things I should have handled differently. You're not the only person who makes mistakes."

Katniss swallowed, desperately wiping at her tears, but she was unsure how to respond to that. No doubt her father's death and her mother's crippling depression and emotional abandonment affected her, but she had tried to forgive her mother years ago.

With a final sigh, her mother opened the vials in front of her and dumped some into the mortar. "Do you think you know when conception occurred?" she asked, her tone stern and business-like.

Katniss wracked her brain, fidgeting with her braid. "About four, five weeks ago," she said quietly, her cheeks flushing with shame.

Her mother nodded. "I need you to put a pot of water on the stove," she instructed. "I'm going to make a tea of blue and black cohosh for you to drink."

"Will it work better than the seeds?" Katniss asked in a small voice, getting up to fill the kettle with water. Her mother shot her a look, her face bleak.

"It should. It's going to make you a little sick, though."

* * *

Her mother hadn't lied.

Katniss had to consume the tea several times for a couple days—her mother even woke her up at certain intervals during the night to drink—until she started bleeding. The abdominal and uterine cramps she suffered were intense and debilitating, and she stayed in bed for days, crying and writhing in pain, dry heaving and puking occasionally into a bucket. Her mother kept an eye on her temperature, often pressing cool rags to her forehead and her neck, and she checked her menstrual rags for her as Katniss had no idea what to look for.

After about a week, as her mother helped her back into bed from the bathroom, she murmured, "It looks like it worked." She brushed some of Katniss' hair off her sweaty forehead. "You should be okay now."

Katniss wasn't so sure. She rolled over and closed her eyes, so her mother left her to sleep. She thought she'd feel more relief; she hadn't expected the rush of sadness. A few fat tears squeezed out from her closed eyelids, rolling down her cheeks, and she bit the inside of her cheek to stifle her sob. The physical pain was nothing compared to the emotional turmoil; she didn't understand why she felt so heartbroken.

She had always known that, if she were to find herself pregnant, this would happen. But she had been far removed from the reality when she'd made up her mind then; in theory, it wasn't so scary, so finite, so consuming. What she'd done in the past, the precautions she had taken, they had not been as real as what she'd just done. Before, she'd only prevented implantation, possibly, if that. This time, she had actually terminated a pregnancy. It had been a fetus conceived in the throes of an illicit affair, one she did not want—but it had been Peeta's. And he had no idea.

A sob ripped from her throat, and she smothered her cries in her pillow. Oh, God, she knew it was the right thing to do; she knew it was what she had wanted. But it still hurt like hell.

She had really made a mess of things. She supposed this was the punishment she deserved for her transgressions.

Her mother told her to take it easy for another week, but she needn't have bothered. Katniss couldn't bring herself to leave the bed. She felt weak and tired and utterly disheartened. She alternated between sleeping and staring at the wall blankly. Her mother had to force-feed her, insisting it was important that she heal her body. But without Katniss hunting and bringing in game, they didn't really have anything to properly nourish her body back to health. So her mother made her broth and had Prim bring over some food. Fortunately, her mother had promised not to tell her sister what had happened and made up some excuse about Katniss having the flu.

Prim sat with her and chatted about Aster and her work, and Katniss listened and smiled weakly, but she didn't really have the energy to respond. Sometimes, she just pretended to be asleep when her sister stopped by. It was easier than having to pretend she was fine.

She was deep asleep when she was roused by a comforting touch on her forehead. She assumed it was her mother, or even Prim, so she burrowed further under the covers, determined to ignore the person stroking her hair, until she caught a whiff of something familiar.

Cinnamon and dill.

Her eyes fluttered open, and she found herself staring into Peeta's blue eyes. He was sitting in a chair next to her bed. "What..." she croaked, blinking in confusion. He smiled softly at her, pulling his hand back. But before he could answer, her mother, who stood behind him, spoke first.

"I brought him here. I thought it might be good for you," she explained carefully. "I'll let you two talk." She left the room, and Peeta cleared his throat. Katniss finally noticed how red his eyes were, as if he had been crying recently. Her heart fell.

"She told you," she whispered accusingly. When he nodded, she moaned pitifully, drawing away from him, and a fresh round of tears hit her.

"Hey, it's okay. I'm not mad. Please, don't think I'm mad. Don't be upset," he pleaded, his voice thick with his own tears. He reached out again to touch her face, his palm cupping her face as his thumb wiped away her tears.

She whimpered. "How can you not be mad at me? You can't—you can't have children with—and I just..." She bit down hard on her lip. He pursed his lips, his eyes watering, but he smiled tearfully at her, a small one, like he was trying to reassure her.

"You don't want kids. I...that's probably the least complicated aspect about this whole situation, really. But I understand why you did what you did. I would never hold that against you." She screwed her eyes shut, and he went back to stroking her hair. "I'm just worried about you. What you must be going through..." He sighed heavily. "I'm so sorry about Analise. I didn't know she had found the picture. It was unforgivably careless of me...I didn't know she'd gone to your house until after. And I didn't know where you'd gone to at first. Then, I figured it was probably best that I left you alone while you and Gale..." he trailed off, unsure, and she blinked her eyes open.

"He kicked me out," she said hoarsely. "He won't even talk to me right now."

Frowning, Peeta arched an eyebrow. "Guess he did enough talking to me."

Her eyes widened. "He talked to you?"

"Well, his fists did, anyway." She groaned, turning her face into the pillow. "I deserved it," he added, as if that were some kind of consolation. "After what I'd done, I figured I should let him get in a couple good punches. Rye pulled him off me, but for a few days I had a nice bruise on my jaw to go with the shiner Analise gave me."

She looked at him in horror. "Oh, my God. How can you—how can you joke about it like that?"

He gave her a look. "Sorry," he murmured, running his thumb along her eyebrow. "Guess I learned how to take a hit in stride a long time ago."

Her lip quivered, and he brushed away another tear that pooled in the corner of her eye. "I'm so sorry. I really fucked this up," she whispered.

"I think it's safe to say we both did."

They were quiet for a moment before Peeta spoke again. "I wish...I wish things could have been different for us," he said quietly, and she looked at him. The tired resignation on his face made her ache.

"You're staying with her, aren't you?" she murmured, but it wasn't really a question. He dropped his gaze for the first time since she'd awaken, clasping his hands together.

"I have to...I have to at least try, Katniss. I couldn't live with myself if I didn't at least try to fix this," he said quietly.

"Even though she hits you?" she retorted, and he sighed, shifting uncomfortably.

"We've both hurt each other now, so I guess the playing field's been leveled."

She looked away, not even able to muster up the right kind of rage at his statement. He didn't deserve the abuse, but she guessed they all had to pay for their sins in whatever way they saw fit. "Did you know my mother and your father used to date?" she asked lightly, changing the conversation, and he looked amused.

"I did."

That surprised her. "Really? How did you know?"

"My dad told me, a long time ago. When I was 5, actually." He smiled, sheepish. "That was the first time I ever saw you. I was smitten with you the moment I heard you sing the Valley Song in class."

Her throat closed up at his confession, at how eerily it mirrored her parents' story. "How come—how come you didn't tell me you knew?"

He shrugged. "It never came up." He squinted at her, the corner of his mouth twitching. "You Everdeen women sure have a thing for bakers and coalminers." She didn't know if she wanted to laugh or cry, and he coughed, noticing her distress. "Sorry, I shouldn't joke right now."

She was glad he hadn't lost his sense of humor, at least. She just felt broken.

Smoothing her hair down again, Peeta looked at her pensively. "I think about it all the time, you know. What would have happened if I'd been a little braver back then, if I'd just talked to you. What would have happened if I'd just told you how I felt...Maybe in another time, another world, things would have worked out differently for us."

But she shook her head. "Even if they had, you would have grown to hate me, too. Just like Gale. I still wouldn't have wanted kids, and you'd come to resent me for it, eventually."

Unexpectedly, he smiled at her, such a sad smile that it broke her heart. Tears pooled in his eyes, spilling over. "If it was you? I could bear it. As long as I had you."

Her vision blurred, and she tucked her chin to her chest, inhaling shakily. He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to her forehead, then he whispered in her ear, "I love you, Katniss. Please, don't ever forget that."

He started to pull away, and she was seized with panic, her hand shooting out to grab his hand. "Please. Stay with me, just a little longer, please," she choked out on a sob. His face softened, the pain raw in his eyes.

"Always," he murmured.

But she knew it was a lie.

* * *

Katniss was eating lunch in the kitchen while her mother made some tea when someone knocked on the door. They exchanged wary glances; her mother didn't have many visitors. Taking the kettle off the stove, her mother crossed to the door to answer it.

"Hi, Florence. How are you doing?"

Katniss clenched the spoon in her hand, fear stiffening her body at the sound of his voice.

"Gale, hello. It's good to see you. Come in."

Her mother stepped aside to let him in, and Katniss' breath hitched at the sight of him. He was always a handsome man, but, before the past month, she had gotten used to seeing him every day. His hair fell across his forehead, and the dark smudges under his eyes hinted at his exhaustion. When he looked at her, his mouth tightened, and she wanted to drop her head in shame. "Hello," he murmured, and she nodded her head in greeting, setting her spoon down carefully.

Her mother glanced between them, then moved to grab her sweater. "I think I'll go visit Prim for a little while, give you two time to talk," she said on her way out.

Gale cleared his throat, inching closer. "Well...you look like shit," he mused, but his tone wasn't completely mean. She grimaced. Her natural response of "So do you" seemed misplaced at the moment; she didn't know how humorous he was feeling right then.

"I've been feeling like it," she said instead, and he pulled out a chair to sit in. He was quiet for a moment, and she struggled for something to say. "I, uh...how are you?"

He gave her a look, running a hand through his hair. "Been better." She nodded, dropping her gaze to the table, despondent. "Sorry it's taken me so long to talk to you. I just needed some time to think."

She chewed on her lip, scratching at a wood grain in the table with her fingernail. "I understand," she murmured. "I—I'm so sorry, Gale. I'm sorry I hurt you."

"But not sorry you did it."

She looked at him sharply, her mouth parting in protest. "I—of course, I am," she said stubbornly, and he shook his head.

"I've known you a long time, Catn—Kat_niss_," he replied, his eyes narrowing. "And I've never known you to do something you didn't want to do."

Her eyes were wide, and she looked away, swallowing. What could she say to that? "I'm still, I'm still sorry. For all of it. You...you are the last person I ever wanted to hurt. But I did. And I don't know how to fix it."

He didn't respond at first. "I don't think you can," he said finally, and she closed her eyes. "I've been doing a lot of thinking. About you. About us. Things haven't been too good with us, have they? For a while."

She shook her head. "No, they haven't," she agreed quietly. He sighed.

"Were you ever happy? Did I ever make you happy?"

"Of course, you did!" she said urgently. "I _was _happy! I was happy for a while, I just..."

"Then why did you do it?" he demanded, his eyes flashing angrily. "_Why_?"

She didn't know how to answer that question, at least in a way that would appease him. She had wanted Peeta; she had only been thinking about herself. And maybe, maybe she had wanted to get caught, to bring everything to a crisis. Because she was too cowardly to just say she wanted out. "I don't know, Gale. I guess because I'm a lying, selfish, miserable bitch," she parroted his words from before.

He huffed, his eyes flicking away from hers. "I don't feel like I even know who you are anymore," he muttered. "But maybe I never did. Or maybe I knew, deep down, but I just thought I could change you. I thought loving you would be enough."

Ashamed, she dropped her head again. He continued after a moment, "I thought about sleeping with someone else. To get back at you. I almost did."

She pursed her lips, trying to quell the hurt. "Why didn't you? I wouldn't have blamed you if you had," she whispered.

He sighed. "Probably because of that. Because it wouldn't have mattered to you. Because it's probably what you wanted. It would have made us even, but then I'd be no better than you."

Katniss flinched. He didn't think he knew her, but it sounded like he understood her perfectly.

"Did you ever love me?" he asked, defeated, and she looked up at him, her eyes watering.

"I did. I swear I did. I loved you a lot. I still do. I just..."

He nodded, and he blinked furiously against his own tears. He didn't say anything for a moment, then he pulled some papers out of his back pocket. Unfolding the document, he slid it across the table toward her. Her heart stopped when she read the big, bold words up top:

**Petition for Dissolution of Marriage**

Her wide eyes darted between his face and the paper. He just watched her solemnly. She read further: _"The petitioner GALE HAWTHORNE states that the marriage between petitioner and respondent KATNISS HAWTHORNE has been irretrievably broken on the grounds of ADULTERY."_

She bit down on the inside of her cheek, her heart racing. The word _ADULTERY_ raged inside her head. "This is—are you sure this is what you want?" she croaked, her voice strained. He gave her a tired look.

"I think this is what we both want," he answered resolutely. Nodding in resignation, she wiped at her tears and flipped through the rest of the pages, not really seeing. "The petition states that I would retain the house. Nothing personal, it's just standard procedure for infidelity," he muttered.

She swallowed against the lump in her throat. "That's—that's fine. I would, I'd want you to keep it, anyway," she said miserably, rubbing the back of her hand across her nose. "Do you have a pen?"

He pulled one out of his pocket and handed it to her. Her hand trembled as she took it from him and flipped to the page requiring her signature. He had already signed. With a deep breath, she scribbled her name and dated it. Then she slid it back across the table to him. Gale hastily brushed at his eyes and folded the document up, stuffing it in his pocket.

"I'm so sorry," she said again, meeting his gaze. "I really, really am. I hope...I hope you find someone who will give you the love and happiness you deserve."

He stood up, his brow furrowed in deliberation. "I hope you find whatever it is you're looking for, Katniss," he said. She peered up at him.

"Do you—do you think you could ever forgive me?" she asked meekly, not sure it was even her place to ask but already sure she knew the answer; she had to know, had to hear him say it.

The look he gave her was devastating. "No," he said honestly, the pain thick, and then he was gone. Katniss wasn't sure how long she sat at the kitchen table, tears running down her cheeks. She was barely aware of her mother returning, Prim in tow, until her sister crouched at her side.

"Katniss?" she asked timidly, and Katniss couldn't stifle her sob.

"Gale, he—he filed for divorce," she gasped, and Prim just held onto her while she cried.

It was done. It was over. Somehow, Katniss knew this was going to happen; this was how it was meant to be. She was alone, just like she'd always figured she would be. Just like she deserved to be.

* * *

Moving on with her life had been tough. She and Gale were officially divorced on October 23 of that year, and she moved back in with her mother. The day she'd gone back to her old house to move her stuff, he had been there to help her. Things were tense and awkward between them, and she ached to know that she'd lost such an important person in her life—not just him but all of the Hawthornes—but she knew she only had herself to blame. She figured it was at least promising that he bothered to help her move. She saw him around the Seam and the Hob periodically after that, and he'd just nod stiffly at her in passing; she heard talk of him dating and occasionally saw him keeping company with a couple different women. It hurt to see, but she hoped he was happy, at least.

She still had her business in the Hob, but she mainly steered clear of town. The Merchants hadn't been too forgiving of what she'd done, soiling a Merchant marriage, as they probably saw it, and they weren't really willing to trade with her anymore. They still wanted her meat, however, so she had her mother take it to the few Merchants who still begrudgingly offered her their products in exchange for a fresh kill. She knew it was cowardly of her to avoid them, but she still needed time to heal. And more than anything, she wanted to avoid seeing Peeta. Getting over him would be much harder if she had to be constantly reminded of what she'd lost. She had no idea how he and Analise were doing; she didn't ask anyone, and no one offered any news.

She was glad for that.

The only thing she couldn't avoid was the meadow. She crossed through it every time she went to hunt, and her still-mending heart shattered just a little bit every time.

It was summer again, and the meadow was now lush and full. The yellow blooms of dandelions dotted the green field, and Katniss stopped to survey it as she wandered home from her hunting trip. For the first time in nearly a year, she felt at ease. Leaving the woods, she ambled farther out into the meadow and set her game bag down. A warm breeze kissed her face, rustling the fine hairs around her neck and her forehead. Taking a deep breath of the clean air, she sat down in the tall grass. After a few minutes, she reached up and pulled the elastic band out of her hair, combing her nimble fingers through her long hair to work out the braid. With a sigh, she stretched her legs out in front of her and leaned back on her hands. Then she stared out across the meadow, over the softly rolling hills that sloped back into the woods in the distance, the boundaries of the district delineated by the fence that stretched all the way around.

She heard rustling behind her, and her body tensed, ready to flee. Her mouth went dry suddenly, and she was too afraid to turn around.

"Finally letting your hair down?"

His voice. After all this time, she hadn't expected her body to react so strongly to just the sound of his voice. But a chill ran up her spine, and her heart fluttered painfully. She swallowed, but she didn't look at him until he sat down beside her.

Peeta smiled at her, and breathing was impossible. He was as gorgeous as ever, his golden curls lustrous, his blue eyes bright, his strong jaw line shrouded by his ever-present blonde scruff.

"Thought it was a nice day to feel the wind in my hair," she murmured when she finally found her voice. He nodded thoughtfully. "What are you doing here?" she couldn't help but ask.

He smiled again, a shy one this time. "Thought it was a nice day to feel the wind in my hair," he echoed back to her. She looked away from him. "How have you been?"

That was a loaded question. She squinted, peering into the distance. "As well as to be expected, I guess," she said guardedly, keeping her eyes trained on the meadow. "You?"

He sighed. "Better than I have been."

She lifted her eyebrows and hummed noncommittally. "That's good. And—how is Analise?" she asked after a pause.

He didn't answer for a moment, and she had to fight the urge to look at him. "She's going to be fine, I think," he said, his voice low. "We're not together anymore. The divorce was finalized last week. I've been staying at Rye's until I can get my own place. She's pretty...upset. With me. But I think we both knew it was coming a while ago."

She licked her lips, not sure how the news made her feel. "I'm...sorry it didn't work out," she muttered uneasily, her brow furrowed.

"It's okay. I gave it a try. I had to," he replied, looking down at the grass as he yanked out a few blades. "But I was just fooling myself. I think I am simply and utterly doomed to be hopelessly in love with only one woman for the rest of my life." Her heart skipped a beat, and her eyes widened, but she didn't dare look at him.

"Oh?" she rasped for lack of a better response, and he sighed loudly.

"Yeah. I can only hope she's willing to forgive the unbelievable extent of my stupidity this last year, though I wouldn't blame her if she was ready to be done with me completely. I'm not entirely sure I'm worth the trouble," he said sincerely, a little glum.

She caught her bottom lip between her teeth, chewing nervously. Then she steeled her resolve and took a deep breath. "She might be willing...if you brought her some cheese buns."

He laughed then, a hearty sound that resonated from his belly. She looked at him, and his eyes sparkled at her, the corners crinkled in relief. At the sight, she felt a responding tug in the pit of her stomach. "I'll see what I can do, Katniss," he said, tugging up a bright yellow dandelion from the ground. He twirled it between his fingers, then he reached up and tucked it behind her ear, flashing her a heart-stopping grin.

And she smiled.

* * *

_**Public Service Announcement:** I don't think herbal abortifacients are anything to trifle with, especially when there are other safer resources available for women who find themselves with an unwanted pregnancy (well, for now, don't even get me started on the state of women's reproductive care in this country today). But I think this would have been a reality for people in District 12, and I imagine Mrs. Everdeen potentially helped a lot of women with this issue, and her husband/Katniss probably assisted in collecting the necessary herbs. I did a lot of research on this subject, and I know it's not a pleasant topic to write or discuss, but for someone like Katniss, I think it's entirely within the scope of her character to take such precautions. Anyway, sisterzeus-dot-com has a lot of helpful information about this topic._


End file.
